Saving Grace
by LightAlpha25
Summary: Oswald Cobblepot, the Penguin, is the king of Gotham. He has everything a man could ever need or want. And yet, there is something missing from his life. When he rescues a girl off the street one night, he has no idea just how capable she is of saving him, too. Set two years after the fall finale of Season 2.
1. Chapter 1

**Trigger Warning: This story is rated M for mentions of abuse, graphic violence, and some sexual content.**

 **Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 1**

It was raining. But wasn't it always in Gotham? That's what umbrellas were for.

Oswald Cobblepot liked the rain. Or he normally did. But today, the grey sky and cold, wet air only seemed to be an extension of his mood. The death of his mother, though it had been almost two years ago, still haunted him, leaving him bereft and secretly traumatized. She had been his only family. His only friend. It was true that with her gone, no one could use someone he loved as leverage against him anymore. He supposed that was a vague silver lining of sorts, but after taking the time to grieve, now he only felt hollow. The silver lining didn't feel worth it.

Blankly, he stared out the car window, paying little mind to the water droplets as they joined and danced on the glass before his eyes. He was tired. And fairly depressed, if he was being honest with himself. It had been a long day. He just wanted to go to bed.

His driver stopped at a light. They were in one of the sketchier parts of town, and Oswald's eyes were drawn to movement in the nearest alleyway. Though the meager sunlight was waning, he could see plainly enough that there were four men. Four large men, and one small victim. It was a girl. He couldn't make out her features very well, but when she suddenly screamed, it chilled him to the bone. Which struck him as odd. He hadn't thought that he could get any colder. One of the men struck her face, probably to shut her up.

Oswald's first instinct was to turn a blind eye to this. Some random girl on the street was nothing to him. He had his own problems. But he couldn't seem to look away, and when another man tore the front of her shirt open, Oswald was moving before he could stop himself.

"Just park here a moment," he said, unbuckling his seatbelt, "Follow at my signal."

Then he was opening his car door, using his umbrella as a walking stick—as the rain had mostly subsided—and telling himself that he was doing this merely to loosen up and vent a little frustration.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he addressed the thugs, projecting his voice as he kept a reasonable distance.

The men all turned to him, somewhat confused by his presence. Two of them still held onto the girl. "What the hell do you want?" one of them yelled.

Oswald ignored the man. "Of course, I use the term 'gentlemen' loosely, as this is no way to treat a lady." He gestured to the young blonde in their grasp.

 _Did all four of them just roll their eyes simultaneously? That was surprisingly synchronized._

"Mind your own business, twerp," one said.

"Piss off before we beat your ass," said another.

"Oh, eloquently put. But no." He shrugged. "I'm not going anywhere. Not while you're alive."

The biggest of the thugs charged him. Calmly, Oswald pressed a button on the handle of his umbrella. A switchblade popped out of the other end, rather like a miniature bayonet, and with a well-placed jab, the goon was brought to his knees, clutching his middle as his blood began to flow. In almost the same motion, Oswald signaled to his driver, who came to his side with a sawed-off shotgun in his hands. At Oswald's behest, he handed it to him and took the umbrella.

"Thank you, Gabe. Now…" He turned to the thugs and cocked the gun. "Who's next?"

The smallest one went for a gun in his jacket pocket, so he was the first to be shot. Cornered, the other two took off down the darkening alley, but it was a straight shot and they were both brought down easily. The one with the knife wound began to flee as best he could and ducked behind a dumpster. Oswald handed the gun back to Gabe.

"Take care of that one, will you?"

As his loyal henchman strolled along the alley to finish the last man, Oswald turned his attention to the girl. She had ducked to the ground when the shooting had started, and she hadn't moved, only trembled and held her hands over her ears.

"Miss?"

She still didn't move. He nudged her gently with the side of his shoe, not wanting to kneel down.

"Miss?" he tried again, "Are you injured?"

Slowly, she looked up at him. Just then, Gabe fired the shotgun, causing her to scream and duck back down again. Oswald sighed and bent at the waist, putting a careful hand on her shoulder.

"You're safe now."

She flinched and he pulled away, but again she looked up at him, shaking and hugging her torn shirt to herself. "No, I'm not." Tears filled her green eyes. "I'll never be safe. I have nowhere to go." The tears spilled and she looked down.

Oswald looked around the deserted area, debating. He had expected her to run away once she was free, possibly shouting back a quick 'thank you' as she went. Instead, she just sat there, paralyzed with fear and shivering in clothes that were too light for this weather. Perhaps he could direct her to the nearest women's shelter? But no, she would probably be worse off there. Those places were like buffets for pimps and rapists.

By all rights, he should have just wished her luck and walked away. He was under no obligation to help her further, and she could only prove to be trouble from this point on. So naturally, he took his outer coat off and put it around her shoulders.

"It's…surely not as bleak as that," he said, "You're probably just in shock. Gabe…" He gestured for the larger man to hand over the gun. "Thank you. Take her to the car."

A moment later, the three of them were driving along down the street, an awkward silence hanging in the air around them. It went on for several minutes, and Oswald had finally decided to just let it be when he thought he heard her mutter something.

"Did you say something?"

"Where are you taking me?" she repeated more clearly.

"Oh, to my home. You're welcome to stay the night. I have…plenty of room. You can figure out what to do in the morning."

She paused for another long moment. "Thank you," she said, barely above a whisper.

"…Think nothing of it."

He spent the rest of the drive sneaking looks at her. She was disheveled, to be sure, but not unattractive. She was fair, and her cheeks were flushed from the cold. Her hair was just a few shades darker than platinum blonde, but it was wet from the rain, so that might have affected the color. Wrapped up in his coat like she was, actually, she was pretty cute.

Oswald immediately felt awkward when that thought crossed his mind. Not only was it outrageously inappropriate given her current situation, but, well, he had always felt awkward around cute girls. In any case, he didn't need to think of her that way. She would only be around for a short time, and she'd be asleep for most of it, so…good. Good. He would be rid of her by the next afternoon.

When they pulled up to the house, he turned to her. "Can you walk?"

She hesitated, but cleared her throat and said that she could. He saw that her eyes had brightened somewhat, and she seemed more aware. That was a good sign.

He entered the house as Gabe helped her from the car and he called for his butler.

"Shani? Shani!"

In an instant, the tall, mocha-skinned woman was in front of him, awaiting his orders.

"Get a fire going, and find something for this young lady to wear," he said, gesturing to the girl as she walked in on Gabe's arm.

"Yes, sir. Shall I set another place for dinner?" Shani's smooth British accent was always rather nice to hear.

Oswald spared a look at his guest. "We'll take dinner in the sitting room. But see to her first."

"Yes, sir." She turned to the girl and smiled. "Would you come with me please? We can find you something comfortable to wear. Don't worry."

With that taken care of, Oswald went to his own room and cast aside his damp suit jacket. He considered changing completely, but decided he didn't need to be so formal for this particular dinner. After all, they were to eat in the sitting room, and she wasn't going to be wearing anything too fancy. He didn't generally keep women's clothing in the house, so Shani would likely end up lending the girl some of her own clothes. He would need to remember to reimburse her.

An hour later, they met in the sitting room. She looked much fresher now. Her hair was dry and pulled back, and she wore a pair of jeans and a cozy-looking pink sweater. Given the honey and lavender scent now wafting through the air, he assumed she had taken a shower.

"Forgive me," he said, "Proper introductions haven't been made. I'm Oswald Cobblepot." He extended his hand, which she shook, though he noticed she remained timid.

But she did offer a shy smile. "Grace Ackerman. Nice to meet you."

"Uh, please sit down, Miss Ackerman." He gestured towards the fire. "I'm sure dinner will be ready soon."

 _Why did I bring her to my home? Why am I being so altruistic?_

 _Why am I enjoying this?_

Dinner was indeed served just as they were seated. It was bagels and lox. Normally, he would never have served something so casual to a guest, but this was short notice, and he hadn't intended to eat much of anything that evening, thinking he would just fall into bed early. He felt a small pang of regret at not having something nicer for her, but she still ate it like it was her first meal in days. It may have been, for all he knew. He waited until she was done before questioning her.

"So Grace," he began, "if you don't mind my asking, how did you find yourself in your earlier predicament?"

He could see right away that he probably shouldn't have opened with that question, and for a second he was afraid she would burst into tears, but she seemed to gather her control and answered him gently.

"They were collecting money from my father, but he didn't have it this month. So they killed him and took me."

"My deepest condolences to you. Those kinds of situations are always so…messy."

She shrugged ever so slightly. "It was…no great loss. He…wasn't a good man…But he was my protection, and now he's gone. And I don't know what to do." Though she remained soft-spoken, the distress in her voice was increasing.

"You mustn't worry about that tonight. You've been through a traumatic experience. You need food and rest more than anything, I'm sure."

"…Thank you." A tear slid down her cheek. "Thank you so much."

"It's nothing really."

 _I have to rearrange my whole day tomorrow because of you. Why do I not mind?_

 _Am I just…lonely?_

"It's not nothing," she said, "If you hadn't come along, those guys would've…" Her words faltered. "You saved my life…You're kind to me, and you don't even know me…Why?"

"I have a sincere distaste for bullies, Miss Ackerman. That's all."

When she only nodded and smiled in response, he went on.

"If you're finished, I'll have Shani take you to your room." He stood. "I daresay it's time for bed."

* * *

About all Oswald could do that night was toss and turn. His body was exhausted, but his mind just wouldn't slow down. As he mentally reorganized his schedule for the following day, he thought a great deal about Grace. What should he do with her? There were several possibilities. Quickly, he excluded all the ideas that involved selling her. That would have made his rescue worthless. And besides, he didn't deal in the business of flesh—though he worked closely with many who did.

There was always the option of simply dropping her off in a safer part of town, maybe giving her a little start-up money. Still, she would be vulnerable. In Gotham, everyone, even the king, needed protection. Oswald had the resources to buy his own, but Grace certainly didn't. So where would she get it?

 _She probably wouldn't. She has no connections. If she went missing, nobody would notice._

It occurred to him that _he_ could be her protection. But that was a risky move. If he paid her much attention, it could potentially make her even more of a target. And she was a walking target to begin with. Young, cute, and small—barely over five feet in height. And on top of that, he would run the risk of actually becoming attached to her. No good could come of that…

He let out a frustrated sigh.

If he put her up in a nice apartment somewhere, people would think she was his lover, and that would only be dangerous for the both of them. Not to mention expensive. And why should he put her up like that anyway if she wasn't his real lover? But if he kept her with him, maybe gave her some household job…

Oswald flipped his pillow and punched it a couple times.

Why should he do anything? Why should he care where she ended up now? He had already done much more than was necessary.

But she was such a soft, vulnerable thing. The idea of her being abused and ultimately killed—which is exactly what Gotham would do to her—made him feel guilty.

 _I really must be lonely. That, or I'm going very soft._

Oswald sighed in resignation. "I mustn't make a habit of this," he muttered to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 2**

Grace had gone numb after the biggest man hit her in the face. Her cheek had throbbed, but she didn't feel anything else anymore, not even their hands. She had just sunk into herself, waiting for it to be over. Waiting to die.

And then time had stopped and the entire world zoomed in on one man. A small, well-dressed man who spoke with surprising confidence for someone who was outnumbered. What happened next was blurry. There was another man, gunfire, and then the predators were dead. But the only thing that seemed to resurface in her soul was hopelessness. Her father was gone. It didn't matter if these thugs hadn't gotten her. Others would. It was only a matter of time.

Again, things had gone a little blurry, and then she was in the confident man's car. Slowly, thoughts started returning to her head. Thoughts like, is this car taking me to a good place or a bad place?

Grace didn't truly come back to herself until she was in the shower. And as the hot water scalded away the dirty fingerprints on her skin, it also reminded her that she was in a very new environment. The water pressure was fantastic. The shampoo was the sweetest she had ever smelled. The towels were fluffy and blindingly white. Everything was clean and comfortable. She needed to be careful.

 _My rescuer happens to be insanely rich. That's lucky. But why did he take me home? Will he want me to "reward" him somehow? Or is he actually as nice as he seems?_

 _Surely I'm not_ that _lucky._

She pulled the warm pink sweater over her head.

 _Maybe I should be open to "rewarding" him. I guess I do owe him. He saved my life from a fate worse than death. And he_ is _rich._

 _No. No! That's Dad talking. I'm not like that. I've never been like that._ I won't be like that. _Not ever…But how will I repay him without losing what little dignity I have?_

* * *

Grace had never had salmon before, but she had heard of bagels and lox. She loved it. That may have just been the hunger talking, but she hadn't eaten since the night before. Every morsel was delicious.

After she had eaten, her head felt all the clearer, and she took the opportunity to look over her host for the first time. She was surprised at how young he actually was. Her guess was late twenties, tops. And he sure was unique. Jet black hair styled against a pale, smooth forehead. An interestingly pointed nose. Sharp blue eyes shining with intelligence. And though his wardrobe was more relaxed, it was still pretty darn formal. All he had done really was remove his suit jacket, unbutton his collar, and roll up his sleeves. On any other day, she might have said he was nice to look at. But she didn't have it in her to get flustered over guys tonight. Not after what had happened.

But all through dinner, all through their short talk, Oswald did not give a single hint of impropriety. Grace knew that he could have. She wasn't totally naïve. This was his house, and nobody knew she was there. If he decided to chain her to a wall or something, he could get away with it. Instead, he saw to her every need. He gave her every comfort. And all without asking her to do anything. Her heart filled with gratitude. She hadn't thought people in Gotham could be so…good.

Maybe he _was_ kind of nice to look at.

It took her a little while to go to sleep that night. After all, her life was suddenly swimming in chaos. Her father had died only hours ago, and she needed to decide whether that upset her or not. And now her life was very uncertain. She might not even live that much longer.

 _I've always been just something to throw away. And I know my chances are slim once I hit the streets._

But her host had recommended waiting until tomorrow to figure out what to do. So Grace eventually decided to enjoy the soft, clean bed she currently occupied. She decided to wrap herself up in the feeling of being safe behind a door that actually locked. She let herself have this one night of comfort before the chaos came storming back.

 _I really do owe him everything. I'll pay him back somehow._


	3. Chapter 3

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 3**

He was up the next morning by six and, deciding to be proactive, he'd already had a couple of appointments and made several necessary calls by the time Grace got up around nine. He was at the bottom of the stairs, smiling up at her as she came down. In the back of his mind, Oswald wondered if that was creepy.

"Good morning," he said, hands clasped behind his back.

Grace wore the same jeans and sweater that she had the previous evening. She smiled back at him.

"I hope you slept well," he continued.

"I did. Thank you," she replied.

"Breakfast awaits." He gestured to the next room over.

"It smells really good."

The closer she got, the more visible her face became, as well as the large, darkening bruise on her left cheek. Oswald's smile faltered a little upon seeing it, but he made a point not to frown at her. She needed to feel welcome.

He had arranged with Shani earlier that morning to have a large breakfast selection prepared. How his butler managed to have it hot and perfect precisely when Grace was ready he didn't bother asking. There were pancakes, eggs, fresh fruit, bacon, fried ham, biscuits; more than the two of them could hope to eat. Fleetingly, he decided to let Shani deal with the leftovers as she saw fit.

"I hope it's all to your liking," he said as they sat down. He was seated in his usual place at the head of the table. Grace sat to his left. "I didn't know what you would prefer."

Her plate was heaped full with a little bit of everything. "I've never had so much all at once. You're so generous." She smiled at him, but her eyes seemed somewhat anxious, and she didn't start eating right away.

"Is something wrong?"

"Mr.—It was Cobblepot, right?"

He nodded and looked at her attentively.

"Right. Mr. Cobblepot…you've been really generous with me. And I don't want to take advantage. What I mean is, I'd like to pay you back somehow."

"That truly isn't necessary, Miss Ackerman. You haven't asked me for anything. I did all this because I…felt like it.

 _Is that the only reason I have?_

"The thing is…I'm about to ask for something now. I just want you to know that I would never want to cause you any trouble."

Oswald leaned back in his chair. "Well do go on. No need to be nervous."

Grace took a deep breath. "Well, like I told you last night, I have nowhere to go. I've got no family. No money. Not a cent to my name. I'm a nobody. But I feel safe here. You've made me feel safe. And I was wondering…if maybe you were hiring? I can do anything. Or learn to do anything. I'd never make you regret it, I promise." She pointed to herself with her thumb. "This nobody would work really hard for you."

He stroked his chin for a moment, pretending to consider her offer. The truth was, he had already decided what to do in that regard. So he spent this time considering _her_. She looked at him questioningly, a hopeful uncertainty in her eyes. Her posture was submissive, shoulders hunched, head lowered, but it wasn't in fear. It seemed more akin to respect. That made him feel all the better about his decision.

"You make a convincing case for yourself, Miss Ackerman. It just so happens that I do have a position you could possibly fill."

Her green eyes lit up and begged him to tell her more.

"I run several businesses, you see, which can be quite tiring. Shani manages my household, as you may have gathered, but I've been thinking of taking on a personal assistant. So that I don't have to overwork Shani so much. How do you feel about something like that?"

"I'd be thrilled to be your personal assistant, Mr. Cobblepot! What would I do?" She stabbed a strawberry with her fork and put it in her mouth.

He shrugged. "Be on hand when I need you. Take notes for me. Pour wine. Just see that my needs are met, basically. It's a broad job description, I know, but…I think you'll find I'm a reasonable man to work with."

"Oh, I already know that, sir. I think very highly of you." She ate another strawberry, grinning. "So when do I start?"

Shani stepped in just then and Oswald signaled to her, pointing briefly to Grace and then motioning to his own jaw. "Ice," he said. Half a moment later, the butler returned with an ice pack and handed it to Grace.

"Let's get you back to your full health first, shall we?" he said.

"Thank you," she muttered, pressing the ice to her bruised cheek, "Guess I am pretty unsightly, huh?" She chuckled nervously.

"No, not at all. But at least take another day to recover. It would be a shame if I exhausted you before you were ready."

"But I can start today. It's no trouble. This is nothing." She gestured to her face. "I'm okay."

Oswald couldn't help the pleased look on his face. "If you insist. The rest of my morning happens to be free, so after breakfast we can get you settled in."

"Whatever you say, boss," she said, her smile returned. She began eating in earnest.

He half-smiled as he watched her. Grace's pale, shoulder-length hair was tousled and wavy today. And pink was a nice color on her. She looked…soft. What would it feel like to touch her hair, to gently run his hand down her back? Warmth stirred in his chest and he tried to shake those thoughts away, understanding too well how dangerous they were.

 _I need to think of her professionally. I've worked with beautiful women before. And what did I learn? They're trouble, always, in some shape or form. I need to keep my head._

They made eye contact again and she smiled at him as she chewed. He sighed inwardly.

 _Stop being cute and pleasant to be around. It's not going to make having you here any easier._

* * *

"First, I should ask," he said as they climbed the stairs together, "do you have any belongings that need to be picked up for you? From your old residence."

Grace paused. "…I think I'd just like a clean start."

He nodded. "I understand."

"And besides," she added, "there probably isn't much left there anyway."

They reached the desired door and Oswald opened it, gesturing for her to enter ahead of him. "This will officially be your room."

Grace's jaw practically came unhinged. It was so spacious, so clean and airy, and all of the furniture was so ornate. The bed was at least a queen size and there was a vanity against the opposite wall.

"It's so beautiful," she breathed, "But…well, shouldn't I be in, like, the servant's quarters? You know, closer to Shani?"

He shrugged. "Since you job is to attend to me, I've decided to keep you nearer my own room. Suppose I get a call in the middle of the night and require something immediately. It will be easier with you just down the hall."

Her eyes betrayed a glimmer of anxiety, so he turned and motioned to the door. "Of course, this door locks from the inside. You'll have your privacy."

The anxious glimmer dissipated. "It's beautiful," she said again. She opened her arms and twirled once. "What am I going to do with all this space?"

"Anything you want," he replied, clasping his hands, "Within reason. Which reminds me, I should tell you the rules of the house if you're going to be staying here."

She nodded and practically stood at attention, her hands folded in front of her.

"Rule number one: anything you see go on in this house or anywhere else regarding my business, you will keep to yourself. And I mean it. Speak to no one about my business. If something troubles you, come directly to me." He raised his eyebrows, asking with his eyes if she understood.

"Yes, sir. No problem."

"Rule number two: no guests. Gentleman callers in particular. I'm sure I don't have to explain to you how inappropriate that would be."

"No worries there, sir. I don't have any friends. And I don't think any guys know I exist."

 _I know you exist._

"All the better," he said with a smile and a shrug, "The third and final rule is simple: this house is your home now. So treat it well, keep it clean. I'm sure you get the picture."

"I feel like I'm in a palace." She looked around with a whimsical smile. "I promise I'll treat every little thing with respect."

He smiled in turn. "Shani will take you shopping today. In…" He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "…about half an hour. She'll help you purchase a suitable wardrobe. We must all look professional, after all."

She smiled and nodded, but it quickly faded and the anxiety returned to her eyes once more.

 _Why does that keep happening?_

"…Mr. Cobblepot?"

"Yes, Grace?"

Whatever she wanted to say, she was afraid to say it.

"You can speak freely," he encouraged.

"…I appreciate all of this so much. I owe you _everything_. I don't know if I'll ever truly be able to repay you…"

"…But?"

"But I just, I have to know…if you're gonna try to collect from me by…" She gestured to herself, not knowing how to put it. "…um…"

He was very nearly embarrassed, but made every effort not to show it.

"By making inappropriate advances towards you," he finished for her.

 _Did I do something inappropriate without realizing?_

She let out a breath and nodded. "I, um, I understand if you wanted to do something like that, but…I can't let you. And I'm sorry."

Oswald took a step closer and met her eyes. He spoke calmly, but firmly. "Don't _ever_ apologize for maintaining your dignity. You are…an honorable lady, Grace. I can see that very plainly." He took her hand. "And I would never attempt to sully your good name, or mine-" He put his other hand over his heart. "-by forcing my advances on you. I give you my word on this."

The happiness in her eyes came back in full force. "I'm sorry; I…I just didn't think there were really any kind people left in Gotham. I thought this was all too good to be true." She gave his hand a light squeeze.

This closeness felt really good. Her scent was lovely, and her hand was warm. She was shorter than him. Oswald liked that. It made him feel bigger by comparison. And the way she looked up at him with those innocent green eyes…

"Don't apologize." He held her hand in both of his now. "Believe me when I say I understand."

* * *

Oswald sat alone in his study that evening by the fire, absently swirling a decanter of brandy that he had already lost interest in. He had sent Grace to bed early, claiming that she would have to get up before daybreak the next morning. Whether that turned out to be true or not remained to be seen. Honestly, he had just wanted to regroup without the distraction of her constant nearness.

All day, she had been at his heels like an adorable puppy. To say that she wanted to do well in her job was an understatement. She hung on his every word. If he told her to do something, she would nearly break into a run to go and do it. And she was already developing the habit of going above and beyond.

He'd had to run out to deal with something that afternoon—just a petty drug lord who didn't know how to conduct business. Grace had gotten back from her shopping trip before he returned. He had come home to a warm panini and a fresh batch of cookies.

"What's this?" he'd asked.

"It's your lunch, boss." She smiled brightly. "I asked Shani what you liked."

It had thrown him off, this gesture of hers. Sure, it could have been that she'd wanted to prove herself as his new employee. Or she might have hoped that doing things like that would get her a salary increase. But Oswald could read people, and that wasn't what he had felt. No, when he had walked into that kitchen, it was more like she was his doting wife taking care of him after a long day. And that had been a feeling he had both relished and recoiled from.

"Sir?" Shani interrupted his thoughts.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Did you want the list? Of what all we bought today?"

"Yes, fine. Read it to me."

"Three pairs of jeans, twelve blouses, all various styles. Oh and, by the way, a couple of the store owners said to consider the things we chose as their gift to you."

"How thoughtful of them," he said, not really caring.

Shani cleared her throat and continued. "Six dresses in varying degrees of formality. Accessories to match. Two pairs of pajamas. Eight pairs of shoes, four of which are the high-heeled variety. Now, there lies a slight problem. She can't walk in them. She's never owned heels before."

He shrugged. "She'll just have to practice. What else?"

"A makeup kit. Something else she doesn't know what to do with. And we went out to lunch, but that was on me."

"Consider it on me. I know you disapprove." He looked at her pointedly.

She paused and folded her hands. "I like the girl. She's sweet. I was glad to take her out. Spend some time with her. But she's not a good fit for this business, sir."

"She's not doing any of the business, Shani. She's meant to help you around here. To take some of the burden off of you."

"I don't need any help, sir. And we both know that working for you means getting involved with the business."

He sighed. "Was there anything else?"

She sighed in return. "Just miscellaneous things. Feminine hygiene products…"

He blushed a little at that, and was immediately angry at himself for it.

 _Grow up, Oswald._

"Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant. Oh, and she wanted some candy."

At that, he smiled.

Shani smirked. "Sir, why not just ask her out? It might be a less expensive way to get her attention."

He jerked his head in her direction. "Just where do you get the nerve to speak so boldly?"

She smiled and held up her hands. "Just a suggestion, sir. It's not my place, of course, but you do like her."

"You're right. It's not your place."

"No, sir. But off the books, as a friend, I do advise you to think of her. I don't know how she'll handle it when you come home covered in someone else's blood."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." She was about to say something else, but he held up a hand and cut her off. "You're dismissed."

Shani gave another small smile and stepped out of the room. "Sleep well, sir."

Oswald frowned and polished off what was left of his brandy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 4**

The schedule was pretty sporadic sometimes, but Grace adjusted to the routine quickly. Mr. Cobblepot was usually an early riser. On normal days, he was up and in a suit by eight in the morning. Grace, therefore, would eat breakfast, get dressed, and be ready for the day by the time he stepped outside his bedroom door.

Occasionally, there were not-normal days. And on those days, anything could happen. Sometimes the boss would sleep well into the afternoon, or go without sleep completely for a couple nights. Those sorts of days were usually…less enjoyable. He would be moody, snappy, and much more distant. If he came out of his room at all. But he would never talk about what was wrong, and Grace wasn't sure how to ask.

It had been almost a month since Mr. Cobblepot had taken her in. Grace was staring into the mirror in her room, trying to perfect her eyeliner. Shani had taught her the basics regarding makeup, as well as advised her on putting together her wardrobe. The butler had insisted that an element of glamour was to be maintained. Grace enjoyed the dressing up, and even found the challenge of makeup interesting, but there was one thing she didn't enjoy so much. The British woman had instructed her to wear high heels at least every other day. To practice.

Grace sighed as she put the eyeliner aside. Today was a heel day.

Just as she was slipping them on, there was a knock on her door. Hopping on one foot as she tugged the last shoe on, she rushed to open it, expecting Shani. To her surprise, it was her boss. With the heels on, she stood eye to eye with him.

"Mr. Cobblepot! Oh, I'm sorry. I must've lost track of ti—"

He held up a hand. "You're perfectly on time, Grace, as usual. That's not why I've interrupted your morning routine…You look very nice, by the way."

She smiled and lowered her eyes. "Thank you, sir."

"I just came to give you a head's up. The police will be here within the hour to search the place. So, if you have anything you really don't want them to find, now would be the time to hide it."

"I-I don't. But, wait, why are they coming? Is something wrong?"

"Oh no, no need to worry. It happens sometimes. But if we're lucky, you might get to meet Jim Gordon. A dear friend of mine in the GCPD."

She smiled uncertainly. "Alright."

"You would like him, I'm sure. In any case, just stay calm and be polite, and we can get this over with as painlessly as possible…May I walk with you downstairs?"

"Sure."

As they reached the living room, cars could be seen pulling up outside.

Oswald sighed. "Well of course they're here early. How very like them. Shani, wrap up my breakfast, would you?" He put a hand on Grace's shoulder. "Don't be nervous. I have it all in hand. Now be a dear and open the door for them."

She fast-walked down the hall, heels clicking. Her heart was starting to pound. It was all beginning to make sense. The "business" that Mr. Cobblepot would never tell her any specifics about. The fact that he had murdered four men in the street when he rescued her and hadn't suffered any consequences. And now there were apparently random police searches of his property?

Yep. She was personal assistant to a crime boss.

Grace opened the door with a smile. "Good morning, gentlemen? May I help you?"

"Well good morning," said a red-bearded detective, somewhat flirtatiously she noticed.

There was a somber, military-looking detective to his left. "We'd like to see Penguin."

Grace frowned. "Who?"

"He's referring to me, Grace. Do let them in." Suddenly, the boss was at the door. "So nice to see you again, Jim…Detective Bullock."

The four of them headed to the living room.

"Grace," Oswald continued, "allow me to introduce Jim Gordon. He and I have been through quite a lot together, haven't we, Jim?"

Jim just seemed vaguely uncomfortable. "Yes we have," he replied.

"It's nice to meet you, Jim." Grace offered her hand, which he shook once and let go of quickly. "And you, Detective Bullock."

"Likewise," said the older detective, shaking her hand much more attentively.

"If you'll excuse us," Jim said, "We'd like to talk to your boss alone."

Grace glanced at Mr. Cobblepot, but the shorter man only nodded, a pleased look still on his face.

"Of course," she acquiesced, backing out of the room. She stopped just outside the entrance, however, unable to resist the urge to eavesdrop.

There was a quiet pause, and then Mr. Cobblepot cleared his throat. "Keep walking, Grace," he called out to her.

Damn it! _The shoes_. The stupid high heels! They could hear every step she took. Or didn't take. She was out of there double-time, heels tapping all the way.

What they didn't realize was that she took the shoes off and snuck back.

 _This is stupid. This is dangerous. But I just have to know. What have I gotten myself into?_

"Forgive her," said Mr. Cobblepot, "She's new. Young and curious."

"Cute, too." That was Detective Bullock. "Is she your, uh, companion?"

Grace frowned.

 _He makes the word companion sound like whore._

"She's my personal assistant." Annoyance was clear in his voice. "Not that that's any of your concern."

"Well in that case, maybe you could put in a good word for me."

"Well I could, couldn't I? But she's so _very_ out of your league, Harvey. So why waste my time?"

Grace smirked and crossed her arms. She had never been called 'out of someone's league' before. It felt good.

 _Does he really think that about me? Or is he just trying to put Bullock off?_

"This isn't what we came here for," Jim interjected.

"Then pray tell, Jim. Am I missing breakfast for a good reason?"

"We have a search warrant—"

"Yes, I'm aware of that. I can hear your people rummaging through my things…Why? It's not because of the missing girl. You already know she isn't here."

"Do we, Penguin?" Bullock asked skeptically.

Mr. Cobblepot scoffed. "I have no motive to cause Mayor Jansen any mischief. Heck, I'd vote for him if he ran again. I have nothing to gain from kidnapping his niece.

 _What does this all mean? How could all of this be going on right under my nose the whole time?_

"Then who does?" Jim demanded.

"First tell me what you're really looking for."

Grace leaned forward. This was better than a soap opera.

"…The Mata Hari diamond."

"Really…That's truly interesting." The boss sounded highly intrigued.

 _This is like a spy movie._

"It was supposed to be displayed during a gala at the Gotham museum."

"I know. I was thinking of attending."

"It never made it to the drop-off."

There was a pause.

"Well you could have just asked, Jim. I know you don't like to admit it, but we _are_ friends. You and I have gotten a few good favors out of each other. No reason that should stop now."

"Just give it to us straight, Oswald." There was an edge to Jim's voice. "What's your play?"

"…What makes you so sure I'm involved?"

"Because we have your prints at the scene of the crime," Bullock claimed.

 _Holy crap._

"That's quite impossible." Now there was an edge to the boss's tone. "I haven't done anything _that_ illegal in some time."

"Then who would have your fingerprints?" asked Bullock.

"That's an excellent question, Detective."

 _He's angry…Which means I should probably get the hell out of this doorway._

As silently as she could, Grace padded down the hall and up the stairs. A cop was just leaving her room. He leered at her, but didn't say anything, and as soon as she went inside, she locked the door behind her.

"Okay, Grace," she muttered to herself, tossing her heels aside and pacing along the carpet, "get it together. Just breathe, and think…So, you're working for a mobster. How do you feel about that?" She stopped pacing and ran her hand over her face. "Aside from incredibly _stupid_ for not seeing it before?"

 _This is dangerous. These are the kind of people Dad always owed money to. One false move and BAM! You're history. And if he ever got busted for something, I'd probably go to jail, too…_

After a moment, she sat down on her bed in silent reflection.

 _Mr. Cobblepot stopped four men from raping me._

Absently, she stroked the cheek that had been bruised all that time ago.

 _He gave me clothes and food and a place to live. He gave me a job. He doesn't hit me, even when he has a bad day._

"He called me an honorable lady."

 _I would do anything for him._

The thought came unbidden, but she couldn't deny how true it was.

 _Who cares what he does for a living? I know what bad guys are like, and he's not one of them._

Content with her feelings on the subject, Grace stood and picked up her shoes, then sat down again and put them back on. Just then, there was a knock on the door and she rushed to open it. It was Mr. Cobblepot.

"Hi, boss. Are they gone?"

His cold, stern look forced her smile to fade.

"Is…everything okay?"

"Have a seat." He nodded to the chair near her vanity.

She obeyed, looking up at him uncertainly as he stood before her.

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you, Grace?"

She shook her head. "No, sir."

"Then I won't lie to you either. I'll start off with something simple. My name is Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot. What's yours?"

"Grace Kelly Ackerman."

"I work for the city of Gotham. Who do you work for?"

She smiled slightly. "You."

His expression didn't brighten at all.

"Let me ask again, more clearly." He produced a small knife. " _Who do you work for?_ "


	5. Chapter 5

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 5**

Getting information was something he excelled at, and Oswald enjoyed his work. To make a well-laid plan come together, it was a delight. To see the fear in a man's eyes when he was truly cornered, it was like getting high.

So why did it just make him feel sick when the blood drained out of Grace's cheeks? Why did he have to fight to control the tremor in his hand as he held the knife?

"Answer me," he demanded.

Grace met his eyes again, but kept glancing back to the blade.

"I…I work for you. I don't understand."

 _If she's telling the truth, she'll want to leave after this._

"Who planted you in my house?" he insisted.

"What? _Nobody_."

"Just as you settle in here, someone betrays me." As he spoke, he got closer, hovering over her, putting the knife threateningly near her pretty face. "Is that a coincidence, Miss Ackerman?"

She leaned as far back as she could to get away from the sharp edge. "It has to be. I would never betray you. I owe you too much." A tear slid down her cheek. "Please, I promise."

 _I want to believe you. I want to wipe that tear away._

"How can I be sure? I myself have pretended to be someone's friend, using them as a stepping stone to further my own agenda." He was almost nose to nose with her now. "What's your agenda, Grace?"

"I don't have one. Listen, you just found me and took me in…by chance. Who could have planned that? My dad was shot and I never saw the guy he owed money to. I don't know anybody else, I swear. Dad kept me away from people."

 _Who could have planned this indeed?_

Grace had squeezed her eyes shut, but when he hesitated, she peeked up at him. More tears were streaming. "I'll try to help you figure out who did it. I'll always be honest, Mr. Cobblepot, I promise." Her pleading voice lowered almost to a whisper and she shut her eyes again. "Please put the knife away."

Even if she was guilty, Oswald wasn't entirely sure that he could hurt her. She had been a breath of fresh air. He hadn't felt so terribly alone since she'd come to his house.

 _Much like Don Falcone had felt about Liza, I'm sure. And I mustn't forget how that turned out. I've taken Falcone's house and livelihood. Have I also taken on his weakness?_

With a sigh, Oswald drew away from her and returned the knife to his pocket.

Grace let out a breath and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Okay." She sniffled. "Okay, let's figure this out." She stood and walked over to her nightstand, grabbing a tissue. "Please take my seat, sir."

This surprised him. He had expected her to try to leave. After all, he had just held her at knifepoint. But now she was acting like they were about to sit down together for a brainstorming workshop. Curious to see where this was going, he sat down. Grace carefully knelt at his feet, surprising him again.

The show of supplication wasn't necessary…but it was appreciated.

"In the spirit of being open with one another, sir…I have a confession to make." She took a deep breath, dealing with her fear. "I listened in on your meeting with the detectives." She winced and glanced up at him, expected a smack upside the head.

Oswald only leaned back in the chair. "And what did you learn?"

"That you're, um, a crime boss?" Again, she winced, but he didn't move. "That the police think you know something about the Mayor's niece. And somebody framed you for stealing a big diamond."

He leaned forward, looking hard into her eyes, searching for the truth of her character. "First of all, I am not a mere crime boss. I am the king of Gotham. I am the most powerful and dangerous man in this city. And 'blood, sweat, and tears' doesn't begin to describe what it's cost me to get here."

She looked down, and he could see that she glanced at his bad leg.

"Secondly," he continued, recapturing her attention, "how do you know that I was framed for the diamond robbery? What makes you think I don't have it?"

"Well…if I missed something, I guess I wouldn't be surprised. I mean, I didn't even notice what kind of business you were running until today. But, I don't know; you sounded angry when they told you about the fingerprints. And I feel like…well, wouldn't you have worn gloves?"

He laughed. "Why yes. An astute observation. It seems you're smarter than the entire GCPD." He tapped his head. " _Of course_ I would have worn gloves…Honestly, it's a little insulting that they think I would be so obvious."

He took a deep breath. "In any case, you see my predicament. Somebody stole my prints. Somebody close to me." He looked her over once more. "But it wasn't you, was it, Grace?"

She shook her head adamantly. "No, sir. Not after everything you've done for me."

 _Will you stay then? Even after I frightened you?_

"I appreciate your loyalty."

 _Please don't leave. The house will seem so empty without you._

"Forgive me for being forceful with you before. I was…angry, as you said. I didn't think it through."

"I understand, boss. You have to be rough to be number one. It's a dog-eat-dog world…I get it."

He smiled genuinely. "I'd like to keep you on as my assistant if you're still interested. I may give you more responsibility now that you know the truth."

"Anything, boss," she replied, "Anything at all. You name it. I'll be the best assistant you've ever had."

He took her hand and kissed it, lingering for just a second too long as he enjoyed the warmth against his lips. "And you'll be rewarded for it, I assure you. I take care of my friends."

* * *

It didn't really take that long to find the rat. And in some small way, Oswald felt sorry for the guy as he sat trembling, tied to a chair, his nose broken.

But not that much.

"I remember my own days as a dirty, rotten turncoat," he said to the man, "It's a difficult and messy job, I know." He bent at the waist and looked him in the eye. "And so fraught with occupational hazards."

He brought his fist down on the man's jaw, aided by a set of brass knuckles. He heard a satisfying crack.

"These are delightfully effective," he commented, "Anyway, as I was saying—"

"Please," the rat muttered, though it was difficult for him to speak, "I'll talk. I'll tell you who I work for. I'll do anything."

"Justin Justin Justin," Oswald chided, "This is precisely why you find yourself in this predicament. You're not using your head."

Another punch. Same place. The jaw was definitely broken.

"I already know who you're working for. I've already done the research. You see, that's how I survived my days as a snitch." He paused and ran his hand over Justin's hair once. "How unfortunate that you didn't possess the same skill. Well, unfortunate for you, I mean."

Tossing the brass knuckles aside, he grabbed a roll of duct tape and sealed the man's mouth shut. He then turned to the door. "Please come in now, Grace."

Grace entered hesitantly, looking between her boss and her boss's victim with wide eyes.

"Come," he said, motioning her over, "Come and stand next to me."

She did as she was told, her footsteps soft and light. Today wasn't a heel day.

He met her eyes. "You know why I've called you in here."

She nodded, still looking unsure.

"Don't be nervous. This isn't a test." He pulled out a knife and pressed the handle into her grip, cupping her hand with both of his. "I'm simply going to teach you a couple things, and then we'll see what you're comfortable with."

He guided her fingers. "Hold it firmly like this. Now-" Using the knife in their hands, he gestured to Justin, putting the blade close enough to his skin to make the man anxious. "-this is where you'll want to go for a quick kill. Across the jugular vein, here. The neck is always a good place to strike if you can."

He glanced at her face to make sure she was absorbing this, and to see how she was handling it. Grace was pale, but alert. She was alright. He continued. "If you're being attacked, the face is also an effective place to hit, especially the eyes…But you're fairly short, so you may have to hit them low." He guided the knife to point at the man's stomach. "You can stab anywhere and it will hurt them, maybe even bring them down. But if you want to kill them, strike here. That's the liver."

"Okay," she said softly.

"And if they've knocked you down, you could possibly go for the back of the ankle. Make a deep slice there. Doing that saved my life once."

"Really?"

Oswald half-smiled, glad she was showing interest. "Well, yes...But I won't bore you with such stories now. Perhaps another time. Now we have a task at hand." He looked at Justin.

"Do we have to kill him?"

"He sold my fingerprints, Grace. I've killed men for less than that. Really, he deserves to be tortured first."

Justin whimpered.

"I don't…have to watch the torture, do I?"

"No. No need for that…In fact, you could spare him the misery if you wished."

She immediately looked skeptical. "I could?"

He looked pointedly into her eyes. "Have you ever killed anyone, Grace?"

 _She's gone a shade paler, but she's still steady. Very good. She's tougher than she looks._

"You might consider it practice. No need to stress about making it perfectly clean your first time. His comfort isn't exactly our priority."

Grace looked at the knife in her hand, then at Justin. "I…don't think I can. He's just sitting there, helpless. It doesn't feel…"

"Sporting?"

She nodded.

"I understand. But you see, the sport was in catching him. Now that he's caught, the game is over. He lost."

"Please don't make me," she whispered.

Oswald sighed. Gently, he pulled the knife from her hands. "Of course not. I won't force you to do anything you find uncomfortable…And I won't even torture him, if that will help put you at ease."

Relief came into her eyes, but he didn't allow it to linger there long. He pulled a small gun from inside his jacket and put a bullet in Justin's head.

 _She needs to see me for what I am._

Grace screamed and jumped back in surprise.

 _I saved her, but that doesn't make me any less of a killer._

There was a pause, and then she leaned against the wall and let out a long, shuddering breath. "You scared me," she said.

 _No crying. No fainting. Well done, Grace._

"I apologize. Perhaps I should have warned you." He stepped closer to her. "I assure you, I have no intention of exposing you to the violent side of my work. Not if it can be helped. I only wanted you to be aware of it." He took her hand. "And to know how to take care of yourself."

She nodded slowly.

He put the knife in her hand again. The blade wasn't out this time. "I want you to keep this. Hide it somewhere on your person. You never know when it may come in handy."

"Okay, boss," she said softly, "Thanks."

 _She's strong._

"Come on. Let's go find something more pleasant to do. Someone else will clean this up."

 _Strong and beautiful._


	6. Chapter 6

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 6**

There was a loud thump and a crash, and when Grace opened her eyes, it was all dark. Unsure of what woke her, she lay very still at first. Then she heard another thump. It didn't come from her room. Switching on her lamp, she felt under her pillow for her knife and got out of bed. She crept to her door and opened it slowly, then tiptoed down the hall in her bare feet towards the boss's room.

She tapped on his door lightly, then dared to open it. All of the lights were off. "Mr. Cobblepot?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Boss, are you alright?"

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could make out the shape of a broken lamp near her feet. The sound of a shuddering breath caught her attention. There he was, slumped on the floor next to his bed.

"Boss!"

She rushed to his side and knelt down, putting her hands on his chest and face, looking for an injury. His cheeks were wet. "Mr. Cobblepot, are you okay?"

"Grace?" He sniffled. "Yes. Yes, I'm alright." He wiped his eyes. "I'm-I'm sorry I woke you."

She kept a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"…I'm just having a rough night, that's all. It's nothing." He placed his hand over hers. "You should go back to bed."

The way he was holding on to her hand made her think better of it, however. "You can talk to me, boss. What's wrong? I won't tell anybody."

Mr. Cobblepot was silent for a long time. Grace almost thought he would just send her away. But finally he spoke.

"I lost my mother…I lost my mother not so very long ago," he said, "I'm having trouble…getting over it."

Grace resisted the urge to hug him. "Oh, you can't just 'get over' your mother," she replied, squeezing his shoulder, "A mother is the most important person in your life."

He hung his head, tears threatening to spill again. "She truly was. She was my only friend really. All my life, she-" His voice broke. "-she was good to me when no one else was."

She couldn't stop herself. Grace pulled him into her arms and held him close. He let himself cry then, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders tightly. She stroked his messy black hair.

"It's okay to cry," she said gently, "She was your mother, and you loved her. You're just grieving. It's okay."

 _This is so much like when my mom died. Except nobody ever held me like this._

Unwanted tears started pricking at her eyes.

 _It feels really good._

He cried for what felt like a long time, and Grace ended up silently crying with him. For him. For their mothers. For the fact that she had gone so many years without so much as a hug.

When he finally stopped, he pulled away and put his face in his hands as he tried to steady his breathing. She rubbed his back, not giving the physical contact a second thought anymore. For a few minutes, he just sat still, slowly becoming more relaxed as she ran her hand up and down and side to side. Then he took a deep breath.

"Excuse me a minute," he said, then stood and went into the adjoining bathroom. He turned on the light in there, but didn't close the door.

Not knowing what to do, Grace stayed put and watched as he splashed some water in his face. She could see him clearly now. He wore a plain black undershirt and boxers. His hair stuck to his forehead a little because of the water. She had never seen him in anything less casual than a suit without a jacket. This was like looking at a completely different person. Gone was the mob boss. Before her was a disheveled 20-something with bedhead.

She had also never properly seen his leg. She was perfectly aware that he had a limp, and that his right foot stuck out at an odd angle, but seeing it naked, so to speak, was entirely different. It had been broken very badly, and then healed incorrectly. However it had happened, he had to have been as tough as nails to keep on walking. It made her heart bleed to think of how much he must have suffered. But she took special care not to let him catch her staring.

He left the bathroom light on as he came back.

"Forgive me," he said, "I feel foolish…making such a spectacle of myself." As he came near, he took a second look at her. "Have you been crying, too?"

"Oh…" Her hand flew to her face. "Um, a little, yeah. Sorry."

With only slight difficulty, he joined her on the floor again. "Why?"

"Well…this just reminded me of-" She cleared her throat. "-of my own mother."

 _Don't cry again. That's not what he needs. And it's not what you need either._

"It's just, um, I understand how you feel," she said, meeting his eyes.

Mr. Cobblepot didn't respond. Instead, after a few seconds, he stood up again and limped back to the bathroom. Without a word, he wet a washcloth, wrung it out, and returned to her again, handing it over.

"Thank you," she said softly, truly touched.

The cool cloth felt wonderful against her hot, tear-stained face. She felt refreshed afterwards, but when neither of them said anything more for a moment, she began to feel a little awkward. She was in her employer's bedroom and all she had on was a nightgown. She wasn't even wearing underwear.

"Thank you, Grace," he said finally, "For coming to me in my time of need."

"Oh." Her smile was shy. "It was nothing. Happy to do it."

 _Am I feeling…Is this sexual tension?_

"…um…Do you need anything else?"

"Oh. No. No, not at all. I'm…more than taken care of."

 _Oh my God; I think he feels it, too. That look on his face…_

There was a long pause as they both just looked at each other. Neither were sure where to go from there.

At last, Mr. Cobblepot cleared his throat. "Well, I should send you back to bed." He started to stand. "Lots to do tomorrow. And I suspect you often get up earlier than I do."

As he got up, Grace jumped to her feet. Now they stood face to face. Well, almost. She was maybe three or four inches shorter than him.

"I hope I didn't disturb your rest too terribly," he offered.

 _He's so close._

"No. Not at all. I wanted to help."

"You did," he said gently. There was another short pause, and then he cleared his throat again. "Well…goodnight, Grace."

What happened next kind of felt like a dream. It was like Grace could see herself, but had no control over what she did. Unable to resist, she leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his middle.

 _It feels so good. How did I ever go without it? How did I survive without ever hugging someone?_

She must have startled him a bit, which she would feel embarrassed about later, but he was returning her embrace within seconds. His arms locked around her shoulders so tightly it almost took her breath away, and she could feel him press his nose into her hair. She never wanted it to end.

Alas, after a moment, she knew she would only make a fool of herself if she stayed any longer.

 _I can't just ask to stay with him. What would he think of me?_

So, with difficulty, she pulled away. "Goodnight," she said, and then she hurried out the door.

* * *

When her alarm went off the next morning, she found her knife on the nightstand, along with a note. It read:

Grace,

You left this in my room last night. I found it on the floor this morning. Good thinking, bringing your knife. After all, given the ruckus I made, there could have been an intruder for all you knew. But I digress. Thank you again for coming to my aid. Please take the morning off. I've already left. I should be back around one o'clock today.

Oswald Cobblepot

 _He has beautiful handwriting…What am I going to do with a morning off?_

A smile slowly crept onto her face and she got out of bed, kneeling down and opening the bottom drawer of her nightstand. This was where she kept her hidden stash of candy. For a moment, she stared dreamily at the licorice, the sour gummy worms, the lemon suckers. All the goodies she so seldom indulged in.

"Sugar for breakfast? Yes, please."

As Grace lounged around her bedroom, happily munching towards a delightful sugar high, she thought back on the night before. Was it going to be awkward working with Mr. Cobblepot after what had happened? Surely not. She had only been his shoulder to cry on. Any good assistant would have done the same.

 _Right?_

If anything, this would just make them better friends. And it didn't hurt to be friends with the boss, did it?

 _But I wasn't totally professional about it, was I? It's just that…touching him felt so nice. And he's so cute._

She stopped mid-chew at that thought. "Oh my God."

 _Do I have a crush on my boss?!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 7**

Oswald hadn't been able to sleep, so when the sun started to peek through his curtains, he had given up and started his day much earlier than usual. After dressing, he returned Grace's knife to her, lingering at her bedside for a long moment when he did so. She slept on her back, her chest rising and falling, the shape of her breasts apparent through the thin, navy-colored fabric of her nightgown. Her face was calm, her lips slightly parted, totally relaxed. She looked even younger in her sleep. She was twenty-one, but she could have passed for eighteen.

 _Would she wake up if I touched her? Just a tiny caress, my thumb on her cheek? Her lips maybe?_

An unbidden scenario arose in his mind. One involving waking up next to her.

 _If she sleeps on her back like this, all I would have to do is kiss her awake and roll on top of her…_

He inhaled sharply and tried to banish the thought, but it refused to leave his brain. Sparing her one more look, he silently fled the room.

After having taken care of his baser urges in the privacy of his bathroom, he quietly went through his house. All was peaceful. He sat at the kitchen table and ate an apple. Everything was silent, except for the crunch of the fruit between his teeth. He took advantage of this time to himself and let his mind go where it wanted.

To her.

 _It's getting worse. I like her more every day. And after last night, my resolve is crumbling. It was all I could do not to ask her to stay with me._

He took a somewhat frustrated bite of the apple.

 _But no, I promised I wouldn't ask anything inappropriate of her. Only, if I make her a respectable offer, am I really confident that she'd accept?_

He frowned and paused in his eating. He had never been wanted before, especially not by a beautiful woman. Could he handle her rejection? He wasn't sure. To see her sweet face grimace at the thought of being with him would be torture. But the way she had been there for him last night, and the way she had hugged him at the very end, gave him a painful amount of hope.

 _But say it did work out. Say it worked out so well that we fell in love and wanted to live happily ever after. There is still the ever-present danger that someone, somewhere, will use her to get to me. And then she could end up just like Mother._

He shuddered at the thought of a knife in Grace's back. Having to watch as she, too, died because of him.

 _So is that it? Am I supposed to live my life alone, surrounded by wealth and power, sharing it with no one? If I have a chance at love, am I supposed to walk away from it?_

Oswald chewed thoughtfully.

 _Could I protect her? That's what it comes down to. I failed Mother…but I wasn't prepared then._

He nibbled off the last of the apple's flesh and tossed the core into the trash.

Shani came in just then, looking perfectly put together, as usual. "Good morning, sir. You're up early."

"Good morning. Yes, I wanted to get an early start today."

She started to get a pot of coffee going. "Can I get you anything?"

"Thank you, no. I've had my breakfast. I'm going out." He stood. "You can expect me back around one, I think. Oh, but I do have a task for you."

"Yes?"

"Starting tomorrow, begin familiarizing Grace with guns. I want her to know how to shoot one with some level of competence."

She looked unsure, but she didn't argue. "Do you want me to get her one of her own?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps. When she's ready."

"Taking her out in the field, are you?"

Oswald paused, then smiled. "I'm considering it."

* * *

Patiently, Oswald waited for Jim Gordon to arrive at work. He watched the front of the precinct from the back seat of his car, twiddling his thumbs and thinking about Grace.

 _"Men like us are better off unencumbered." Remember those words? Remember how much sense they made? Ed was right then, and he's still right now. Grace will become your weakness. That is a guarantee._

He spotted Jim. "There he is, Gabe. Invite him over for a chat."

 _I'm trying so very hard to talk myself out of forming an attachment. But who am I kidding? The attachment is formed. What can I do, really?_

He observed as Gabe caught up with Jim and guided him over. The detective didn't look pleased, but when did he ever?

 _Why shouldn't I seize the opportunity? Why shouldn't I enjoy her for however long I may have her? If she likes me, who am I to turn her away?_

Jim got into the back seat with him. Oswald gave him the usual friendly look. "Good morning, Jim. How are you? How's the family?"

"What do you want, Oswald?"

He sighed. "One day, Jim Gordon, you are going to have to learn some basic manners. Here I am, bright and early, with key information regarding your current investigation, and I can't even get a 'good morning'?"

Jim looked more interested now, but no less unfriendly. "Good morning. What do you have?"

"I can tell you who kidnapped the mayor's niece." He leaned forward. "And better still, I can tell you where she is."

"Talk."

"Tsk tsk. You know how this game works by now, Jim."

"Then stop beating around the bush and tell me what you want. You're wasting time."

Oswald smirked and rolled his eyes. "There's plenty of time. Miss Cassandra Jansen is in no danger, I assure you. She's eloped."

"Eloped?"

"Yes. Run off to be married. In Metropolis of all places, to a Mr. Phillip Kane. She has no idea the trouble she's caused. It's Phillip's older brother, Edmund, who's making all of this noise about ransoming her."

"We'll check it out. Now tell me what you want."

Oswald pulled out a manila envelope and handed it to him. "This is all the evidence you'll need to clear my name of that ridiculous diamond heist. I'd like to be above suspicion for once."

"Fine."

 _Always a man of few words._

"A pleasure doing business with you, as always. Have a nice day. Oh, and do say hello to Lee for me."

Jim only continued to look irritable as he exited the car, but Oswald shrugged it off.

"Drive uptown, Gabe."

* * *

He finished his business a little after eleven o'clock, and then headed home. His mind had been buzzing through pros and cons all morning, and it was still going strong as he walked through the front door.

 _Loving her aside, protecting her aside, do I really want to go my whole life having never been with a woman? Who ever heard of a virgin crime boss?_

He stopped in his tracks when he entered the kitchen. Grace stood at the sink with her back to him. She was wearing a pink camisole and a pair of cut-off shorts, and her feet were bare.

 _Yes. God, yes. I do want to be with a woman, and I want it to be her._

As she washed the dish she had in her hand, she hummed a tune Oswald couldn't identify off the top of his head. When she turned around, he noticed with some amusement that she had a sucker in her mouth.

She pulled it out when she saw him. "Oh my gosh. Boss! I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd be home this early."

 _Is she blushing?_

"I'll run up and change into something nicer."

She was about to take off, but he stopped her. "Oh, no no. There's no need. Business wrapped up more quickly than I expected, but…you still have until one o'clock. Please, carry on with…whatever you were doing."

She smiled and picked up the dish again. "I, uh, I was just having an early lunch." She put it in the cabinet, standing on her tiptoes to reach the shelf. "I'm not sure what I'll do now. I'm not really used to a lot of time off."

"What have you done so far?"

She shrugged. "Laze around, mostly. Watched a little TV. And I ate _a lot_ of candy." She popped the sucker back into her mouth.

He smiled. "Sounds lovely."

"Yeah, it's been pretty relaxing. It was really nice of you to give me the morning off like that."

"It was the least I could do." There was a somewhat tense pause. "In fact, regarding my new club opening next week…"

"Mm!" She popped the sucker out again and pointed it at him. "Before I forget, someone called and left a message. He said his name was Sergio, and to tell you that it's taken care of. He didn't say what."

"Oh, yes, thank you. I know what he's talking about. That's good news…Anyway, the new club. It's come to my attention that I am without a plus-one. And, as the owner, I think I should have one, don't you?"

She froze, looking unsure.

 _She's blushing again. Is that good or bad?_

"…Are you…wanting me to find you a plus-one? Because…I'm not sure I know where to find one."

He almost laughed. "Ah, no. I'm…I'm asking _you_."

"As your…assistant?"

"Date…" Her uncertain reaction was making him nervous. "Unless that makes you uncomfortable, or—"

"Oh, no no. No, I'd love to be your date."

He almost couldn't believe it. "Wonderful. I…I'll make the arrangements."

She grinned. "Imagine me, walking in with the _owner_. All the other girls will be jealous."

 _Girls jealous over me? Now there's an absurd thought._

"I don't…know about _that_. But it should prove to be an exciting night." He smiled. "I'm glad I'll be escorting you."

"Me too."

 _I hope to God I know what I'm doing._


	8. Chapter 8

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 8**

Grace fired the pistol at the human-shaped target. She hit the head.

"You're getting better," Shani remarked.

"Thanks." She didn't mention that she had been aiming for the chest.

"We'll fire off another couple rounds and then call it a day, I think."

"Alright, sounds good."

 _I need as much practice as I can get._

"You're still not holding the gun with confidence. Here, look at me."

Shani, in her well-tailored vest, leather pants, and high heels, looked like a sexy femme fatale as she aimed her gun at the target.

 _I wish I could be like that._

Grace still felt clumsy in heels, and the gun just made her nervous. She was afraid she'd end up shooting herself in the foot or something. Still, she tried.

"Relax," Shani insisted, "Think of your weapon as an extension of your arm. It's part of you. _You_ are in control."

She took aim again.

"Deep breath…Squeeze the trigger."

The bullet sunk into the target's cardboard chest. And she had actually aimed for that!

Shani gave her a smile and a nod. "Better."

* * *

When opening night finally came, Mr. Cobblepot gave her the whole day off to get ready.

"You're not my assistant tonight," he had said, "You're my date. I insist you take your time and enjoy yourself."

Grace didn't think taking the whole day off was necessary at first. Surely she could be ready by eight o'clock, no problem. But as it turned out, there was a lot that went into getting ready.

Shani brought in a hair stylist, and they hung out together as the woman worked on them. Then there was makeup, which Grace wasn't totally proficient with yet, and the dressing, and the accessorizing. It was all kind of an ordeal. But Shani was becoming a real friend, despite her being probably a decade older and _way_ more experienced in all things. Grace admired her, and she loved listening to her talk. British accents were freaking cool.

At seven-thirty, Grace took one last look at herself in the mirror. Her hair was swept into a glamorous updo. Her makeup was flawless. She wore a gown that was pretty much nothing but sparkles on top, and had a bright yellow skirt with a slit going up to her mid-thigh. It occurred to her that it was probably worth more than the apartment she had once lived in. She looked like a completely different person.

A knock on her door pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Grace?" It was Mr. Cobblepot.

"Coming!"

Striding as steadily as she could in her strappy, silver heels, she went to the door and opened it. The boss looked _good_. With a black suit, top hat, and fancy umbrella, he was obviously going all out tonight. Then she noticed that he was looking her up and down, and suddenly she felt a little awkward.

"You look beautiful," he said.

"You look pretty good yourself."

He smiled. "Are you ready?"

She smiled back. "Let's party."

* * *

The club was gorgeous. The place just oozed luxury. Everything was blue, or purple, or soft pink, making the atmosphere cool, like an ice cube melting in the palm of one's hand. Mr. Cobblepot looked so proud. Grace made every effort to stand tall and look like she belonged there, confident at his side. That's what he needed tonight. A date who was worthy of him and the surrounding exuberance. She would try to be that for him. And it was easy to smile. She really was so happy for his success.

She stood back a few steps as he spoke into the microphone to the exceedingly well-dressed crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Here we are at last. Thank you all…all of you, for coming here tonight. It gives me _great_ pleasure…to welcome you… _to the grand opening of the_ IcebergLounge _!"_

At that, he threw his arms out and an explosion of silver confetti rained down on everyone. The crowd cheered and the band started to play something upbeat. Grace clapped and cheered along with everyone. If she hadn't been in heels, she would have jumped up and down. What a presentation. Mr. Cobblepot was on fire!

"Oh, boss, that was awesome!" she said when he returned to her side.

"Thank you. But please, this isn't work. Call me Oswald. At least for tonight."

Her grin got a little bigger. "Okay…Oswald."

 _Huh. Suddenly Oswald is like my favorite name ever._

He looked pleased. "Let's take our seats, shall we? There will be a few people who will want to talk to me."

As he guided her to their booth—which looked like it could seat nine people, it was so big—he gently touched her lower back. It was just to get her going in the right direction, but it sent shivers up her spine nevertheless.

 _God, touching feels so good. Is it possible to get addicted to it?_

Once they were seated, Oswald poured them both a glass of champagne. He then raised his to her.

"To success," he toasted.

"To success," she agreed, raising her own glass.

They clinked their glasses together once and drank. Oswald downed his quickly. Grace just took a small sip. She had never had champagne before. It didn't really taste that great.

He seemed to notice. "Is it not to your liking?"

"Oh, no, it's fine. I've just never had champagne before."

Oswald looked at her thoughtfully. "Out of curiosity, what have you had before?"

"Um…I tried a beer once. But I didn't like it."

"…Gabe?" He called the big man over. "Fetch Miss Ackerman a vodka cranberry."

"Sure thing, boss."

"You really didn't have to order me anything special," she said after Gabe left.

"Nonsense, Grace. As your escort for the evening, it's my job to make sure you enjoy yourself."

 _Hello, butterflies._

"I think you'll like what I've ordered for you," he continued, "It's sweet. You won't taste the alcohol so strongly."

"Thanks. I can't wait to try it."

Gabe came back quickly with a red drink and put it in front of her.

"Thanks, Gabe," she said, raising the glass to him. She was fond of that man. He was a nice guy.

He gave her a friendly wink and resumed his post.

"Well go on," Oswald urged, "Give it a try."

She did as she was told and took a sip. She was pleasantly surprised. "Wow. This is a lot better." She brought the glass to her lips again.

He smiled. "I thought so."

As the night went on, Oswald received several men and women into their booth. None of them stayed for too long, but they all had offers to make him or deals to negotiate. All of them ignored her, but her boss spoke freely to them in her presence, and she liked that. He had always kept her at arm's length before when it came to business.

 _He must trust me 100% now._

Oswald must have had faith in her, because she learned _a lot_ that night. She'd had no idea just how powerful he really was. Drug lords, thieves, gang leaders, black market dealers, everybody answered to him. He truly was the king of Gotham.

At one point, Shani, in her skin-tight black and white dress, slid into the booth on Grace's side while Oswald was talking to a member of the staff.

"Enjoying yourself?" she asked.

"Oh, yes. This is all really exciting."

"Good. I'm glad. Listen, let me get your opinion on something."

She leaned in closer to her and pointed across the room to Victor Zsasz. He was surrounded by three fierce-looking women, which wasn't unusual for him.

"Do you think Victor's attractive?"

Grace was thrown off by the question. "…Um…well, I don't know. I mean, I don't know him very well, but doesn't he seem kind of…unhinged?"

"Well yeah, but I mean just physically."

"Oh…well…I guess so. If you like the dangerous type."

"I don't mind dangerous," she replied, giving him a good, long look, "Do you think he hooks up with those women he works with? Seems like he's got a new set every time he goes on a job."

This was not the sort of conversation Grace was accustomed to having. "I…wouldn't know…But he seems to have kind of a soft spot for them. I don't know if that means anything."

"Oh what the hell." Shani shrugged. "I might as well give it a shot. Speaking of shots, I may need a couple more before I approach him. You want anything?"

"No, thanks."

"Alright. Well, wish me luck." And with that, she was off.

 _She must be crazy to have a thing for Zsasz. But then again, if anyone could handle him, it would be her._

"What's Shani up to?" Oswald asked.

"Oh, you'll never believe it. She told me she's interested in _Mr. Zsasz_. And I guess she's going to make a move on him tonight."

"Really?" He looked in Zsasz's direction, then laughed. "Well, part of me has no trouble believing it. Shani is…quite the player. But Victor…he's an interesting choice. You'll have to let me know how it plays out."

Grace promised she would pass on the details if Shani told her anything. Just then, a tall, lanky fellow in a dark green suit approached them. Oswald greeted him with familiarity.

"Ed. I'm glad you could make it."

"Hello, Mr. Penguin. I'm glad you invited me." He smiled and adjusted his glasses.

"Won't you join us?"

"I will." He sat down next to Oswald, but his eyes were on Grace now. "Won't you introduce me to your friend?"

"Ah, yes. Ed, this is Grace Ackerman. Grace, Edward Nygma. An old friend of mine."

Ed reached over Oswald and shook her hand. "A pleasure, Miss Ackerman."

 _Aww, he's adorable. In a nerdy way._

"Likewise," she said with a smile.

"Are you two having a good time? I know I am."

"Oh, I am, too," she said, "Isn't this place just beautiful?"

"It's very grand, yes."

"Can I order you a drink, Ed?" Oswald interjected.

"Oh, no thank you. I'm not drinking tonight. Just wanted to observe. Did you know that there are actually sixteen types of ice known to science?"

Oswald rolled his eyes, but remained friendly. "No. I didn't know that."

"I think I'd like another one of those vodka cranberries," Grace said.

Oswald was about to snap his fingers for Gabe, but Grace touched his arm and stopped him.

"I'll get it myself," she said, "It'll give me a chance to look around and stretch my legs a little."

"Of course," he replied.

She smiled. "Excuse me," she said politely to Ed, and then she slid out of the booth.

There were two bars, one for each of the two floors. They were on the second level, but Grace opted to go downstairs, just so she could take everything in. She particularly loved to stare at the giant crystal chandelier hanging in the center of the ceiling. She had never seen anything so splendid. It took her breath away.

When she reached the bar, despite it being pretty crowded, a bartender saw to her immediately, and she didn't even have to pay for her drink.

 _I guess this is what happens when you walk in with the king._

Still, she reached into her purse and gave the man a generous tip. He deserved it.

She watched him make a vodka cranberry with fascination, not paying attention when a man in a finely tailored suit came to her side.

"How are you doing, lovely lady?" he said.

"Oh. Fine, thanks," she replied, smiling courteously.

"Would you care to dance?"

"No, thank you. My date is waiting for me."

She picked up her drink and tried to back away, but he kept talking.

"Ah, c'mon. You'll be my date soon enough anyway, baby. And then his, or his, or any of these underbosses. If you play your cards right, I mean."

"What are you talking about?"

"What, are you knew to the game? You're a consort, sweetheart. A well-educated hooker who hangs with the high rollers. I can spot one from a mile away."

Grace felt like she'd just been slapped in the face.

"Hey, I get it," the man continued, "You're with the head honcho right now. You wanna keep it up with him for as long as you can. Sure. But hey, it's never a bad idea to line up your next, uh, _client_."

Suddenly, she felt like crying. She set her drink down gently on the bar. "Excuse me," she muttered. Spotting the nearest ladies' room, she fled there and locked the door.

She quickly glanced under the stalls for feet, her father's voice echoing in her head.

 _"You'll never be much. But with your pretty face, maybe you'll make some decent money on your back."_

"No," she said, her voice breaking, "No! I'm not like that. I'm _not_." She sunk down, her back sliding against the door, and sobs wracked her body.

 _Does everybody see me that way? Does Mr. Cobblepot…Oswald…does he see me that way?_

In the back of her mind, Grace wondered if her eye makeup really was waterproof.

 _What if I fall for him, but then he gets tired of me? Would he pass me off to other guys, like that jerk said?_

Through watery eyes, she looked at the yellow fabric surrounding her legs. It was glaring.

 _I don't belong here._

A knock at the door startled her.

"Grace?" Oswald's voice came through the wood.

She jumped to her feet and wiped her cheeks.

"Grace, please open the door," his voice came again.

Fresh tears spilled and she wiped her cheeks again, trying to regain some control. Hesitantly, she turned the lock. The door opened immediately and Oswald came in. He looked her up and down, a confused, concerned look on his face.

"What happened?"

She opened her mouth, but no words came. Instead, she only began to sob again. In an instant, Oswald had locked them both inside, and when he turned to her again, he cupped her face in his hands, wiping her tears with his thumbs.

"Grace…"

She threw herself into his arms and cried against his shoulder. Without hesitation, he wrapped her tightly in his embrace. And slowly, against the nearest wall, they sank down to the floor together. Oswald held her close, stroking her cheek and rocking her subtly back and forth.

"Sshhh," he comforted, "It's alright. Whatever it is…I'll take care of it."

She pulled back, trying hard to swallow the lump in her throat. "It's me. I'm…I don't belong here."

"Wha—What do you mean?"

"In this place. In this ridiculously gorgeous dress. Wearing shoes that are worth more than I am."

He frowned. "Don't say that."

"I belong in a hovel somewhere," she said with more conviction, "Serving drinks and doing laundry and being invisible. Wearing clothes that don't give men the wrong idea."

Rage flashed briefly across his face, but he didn't raise his voice. "A man spoke to you. What did he say?"

Tears stung her eyes. She struggled to answer. "…He asked me to dance." Her breathing was staggered. "And I said no, because my date was waiting…And he called me a _well-educated_ _hooker_ , and you're gonna pass me around once you…once you…" She couldn't go on, tears streaming.

Her eyes were bleary, but it didn't escape her notice how angry he looked just then.

 _All I've done is cause trouble._

"I will take care of this," he said with some force.

"I'm so sorry. I've…I've ruined your big night."

"No, you haven't."

"You're in your club, locked in a women's bathroom with your hysterical personal assistant."

He exhaled a laugh. "I've never been in a ladies' room before." He looked around. "It's nice."

She couldn't help a slight chuckle.

"It's a welcome break from all the socializing, believe me," he continued, "…You're much better company." He touched her shoulder affectionately.

 _What does he really want from me?_

She took a shaky breath. "…Mr. Cobblepot—"

"Oswald," he corrected gently.

"Oswald…what am I to you? Please, just tell me the truth, no matter what it is."

She couldn't make eye contact with him as she waited for his answer. She didn't notice how startled he was by the question. There was a long pause, and Grace's heart sank with every passing second.

 _He doesn't think of me the way I think of him. And why would he? I'm nothing._

She then felt two things in rapid succession. The first was Oswald's hand as it suddenly held her head in place. And she had barely processed that before she felt the sensation of his lips on hers.

His kiss was passionate, but slow. The heat was there, but there was also tenderness and comfort behind it. She laughed against his lips, relief flooding her heart. He extended the kiss by moving to her cheeks, brushing away the tears that remained. She relished every little touch, the way a man in the desert would relish water. When it ended, neither of them fully let go of one another.

"You're the reason I find myself smiling every day," he answered, looking her in the eye, "You've made my house a home, just by being there. I was dead inside, and I didn't even know it until you came into my life and woke me up…That's what you are to me, Grace." He exhaled a short laugh. "It feels so good to say it."

Words finally came spilling out. "I was afraid he was right. I was afraid you'd get tired of me…And I care about you so much. I…I couldn't—"

He was shaking his head. "I'm not that kind of man." His face was mere inches from hers.

She smiled, her breathing still a little ragged. He kissed her again, more briefly this time.

"I care for you. Deeply. Those _lowlifes_ out there could never understand…Treasures aren't meant to be thrown away."

She could have almost cried for joy, but she didn't want to cry anymore.

"I will never treat you like a hooker. Well-educated or no."

She laughed softly. She was so relieved, she practically felt high.

"And let me make…" He kissed her cheek. "…just one thing perfectly clear." He kissed her jaw, just beneath her ear, and tightened his grip on her almost painfully. "I will never share you with _anybody_."


	9. Chapter 9

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 9**

Oswald watched Grace go as she went to get herself a drink. He gave Gabe a nod, and the man followed her at a distance. Now he was alone with Edward Nygma.

Joy.

"Interesting," the taller man remarked.

Oswald jerked his head back in Ed's direction. His friend's smile had faded a bit.

"What's interesting?"

"That you would make this mistake. After what it cost you before."

Oswald scowled. "You'll have to be a little more specific."

"Miss Ackerman. She's more than a date, I see. You have feelings for her."

"That's none of your business."

Ed leaned in closer. "You found yourself in a deep depression the last time you loved someone, and I'm the one who pulled you out of it." He paused, and his stupid, overly-friendly smile returned to his face. "But I see no reason why I couldn't do the same thing again." He leaned back and looked in the direction Grace had gone. "And she is beautiful. I suppose I can't blame you."

"I'm so glad I have your _blessing_. But you can rest assured. I will not be requiring your services this time. She is _not_ going to die. I'm making quite certain of that."

Gabe came back just then. Grace wasn't with him.

"What are you doing?" Oswald demanded, "Why aren't you watching—"

"Something happened, boss. She's locked herself in the bathroom."

"What?"

"I listened at the door for a second. She's crying in there."

Oswald practically crashed into Ed as he hurried to stand. "Get out of my way."

Ed resisted just a little. "Mr. Penguin, I really do advise against this."

But it was no use and Ed stood to let him go. Oswald hurried away, Gabe at his side, leaving the Riddler alone without further ado.

"Good luck," he called after his limping friend. He was promptly ignored.

"Tell me what happened," Oswald said as they descended the stairs.

Gabe pointed to the bar. "She was right there, getting her drink. Some guy came up to her, said something. I dunno what. It was real brief. And then she heads straight to the bathroom. She left her drink at the bar."

"Find out who that man was."

"On it, boss."

Gabe left his side to search out the man in question. Oswald went straight to the ladies' room. For a moment, he listened at the door. There she was, just on the other side, crying her eyes out.

He knocked. "Grace?"

The following scene was quite the whirlwind.

When she told him what had happened, he practically saw red. And over the next few minutes, though a great deal was said between Grace and himself, Oswald was planning the man's fate in the back of his mind. But his anger took a backseat to his joy when he realized the truth of Grace's feelings.

And the kiss…

He didn't have any experience with kisses. He didn't really know what he was doing. But it felt _so_ right. The warmth, the wetness, the way she reciprocated. It was bliss. Following his instincts totally paid off. To a point. When instinct started telling him to make love to her then and there, he pushed it aside. He had to remain gentle and restrained, for now anyway. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her off.

And he could do better than a club bathroom for their first time.

"What happens now?" she asked him. Her green eyes gazed at him dreamily, the tears mostly gone.

"Now we pull ourselves together and walk out of this bathroom," he replied, standing with only mild difficulty. He offered her his hand and helped her to her feet.

"I meant…what happens now, between us?"

He didn't let go of her hand, but his voice became a bit shy. "I intend to pursue you romantically." He smiled. "Starting tomorrow morning, I'm going to do everything I can think of to woo you, so…be prepared."

She smiled and blushed. "What if I'm already wooed?"

 _This can't be happening._

He stepped closer to her, their faces practically touching. He could hear her breath catch in her throat at the proximity. Her pupils were dilated.

 _She's reacting to me…How is this possible?_

Oswald spoke softly. "I haven't wooed you properly, Grace. I'm going to take it slow with you." The words were a little painful to say.

 _I want that dress_ off _._

But he wanted to do this right.

He kissed her forehead. "Now come on. Let's get you that vodka cranberry. I want to show you something."

"Okay." She smiled and stepped over to the mirror, taking a moment to look herself over. "Do I look like I've been crying?"

"No. You look perfect." He took her hand again and kissed it. "Our public awaits."

Walking out of a women's restroom with a lady on his arm was…a new experience. People stared. But all he could do was put on a confident face and keep walking.

 _They probably think we hooked up in there._

One guy in the crowd nodded approvingly and raised his glass to him. Not knowing what else to do, he nodded back.

 _Yep._

He didn't mind the assumption, but he decided not to tell Grace about it.

Clearing his throat, he ordered his lady another vodka cranberry. He smiled as he watched her taste it. She really liked it, and that pleased him.

"I want to share something with you. A bit of information," he said, meeting her gaze, "Look up."

She did, but he kept his eyes on her.

"What catches your eye?"

She had a beautiful smile.

"The chandelier."

"Yes. But look at it more closely. What's the finest part?"

She squinted a bit, thinking as she observed. "What am I looking for?"

"What do you see in the very center? It's not quite in plain sight, but you can still see it."

"The big crystal in the middle?"

He looked behind him to make sure the bartender wasn't paying attention. "It's not a crystal," he confided.

"What is it?"

He spoke in her ear. "It's the Mata Hari diamond."

The way she gasped was delightful. She looked back at him, eyes wide. "But…" She leaned closer, suddenly whispering. "You said you didn't steal it."

"I didn't. Well, not _originally_. But since it was pinned on me, I figured I would treat myself. I stole it from the people who framed me."

"Wow." She looked back up. "…That is so _you_."

He let out a breath and grinned, glancing up at the chandelier, then back at her. "I'm-I'm glad you think so."

She met his eyes again. "It's beautiful."

"It'll be our little secret."

"I won't tell a soul."

He took her hand and covered it with his own. "I know you won't, Grace. I trust you."

 _If she keeps smiling at me like that, I'm going to lose my head._

Gabe came up, which got Oswald's instant attention. "Well?"

"His name's Richie Aldo. He's here with five or six people." He scoffed. "He's nobody important."

"Fascinating. Invite him up to the lounge in ten minutes."

Gabe nodded.

"Come, Grace. I'd like to show you the lounge." He placed her hand in the crook of his arm and led her away from the bar. "It's a private space, for myself and my guests only."

The lounge was a large, well-furnished, dimly lit room. There was a pool table, a big-screen TV, and a small bar. It looked like a man-cave for a Mafioso. And well, that's pretty much what it was.

"Please, make yourself comfortable." He gestured to the leather couch. To the young man who stood at the bar, he said, "I'll be needing a Madre de la Muerte."

The man nodded and started mixing a drink.

"So what are we doing?" Grace asked, finishing off her vodka cranberry and setting the glass aside.

"I'd like to give you my assurances that I intend to look out for you."

Victor Zsasz and his three associates entered the room, followed by Gabe and a struggling Richie Aldo. Grace went pale.

"What the hell, Penguin?" Aldo demanded.

Oswald wagged a finger at him. "Tsk tsk. So informal. We don't even know each other." As he spoke, he stepped closer. The man was taller, but Oswald looked at him as if he were an insect crawling across the floor. "And Richmond, you are hardly in a position to ask questions."

At a look from his boss, Gabe punched the man in the face.

"Now, let's start over. Clean slate. Please, come in. I want to introduce you to someone."

Aldo was put on his knees in front of Grace. Despite her nervousness, she was obviously disgusted by the sight of him.

 _Good. She may enjoy this._

"Richie, this is Grace, my very dear associate and friend. I believe you mistook her for someone else earlier this evening."

The man almost laughed. "Associate. Friend. These are just other words for consorts. Terms men use so they don't offend their woman's pride."

Oswald almost laughed himself. "Yes, I suppose you're right." He nodded to Victor.

The bald young man kicked Aldo in the stomach.

"Associate. Friend. Those are good euphemisms," Oswald continued, "All the same, I find myself… _bewildered_ at how stupid you are."

Victor kicked him again. Oswald stepped over and put his hand heavily on Aldo's shoulder, propping him up as he gasped for breath.

"She is _not_ a consort," he said calmly, "But she did come in with me." He pointed at the man's face. "And you knew that. And still, here we are."

He let him go and Aldo almost fell over, but managed to keep himself from collapsing.

"But any drunken fool could have made that mistake. It took a special level of stupid to continue insulting her now. In your predicament. In front of me."

Another kick from Victor. Oswald thought he heard a couple of ribs crack. He looked to Grace. Her face was serious, but she wasn't quite so pale anymore.

"Apologize to her right now."

Aldo looked at him like he had just ordered him to go to Mars.

"And make it sincere," he added.

Victor shoved the man forward, putting him in a position of supplication towards Grace. She leaned back, as far away from him as she could.

"I didn't say anything wrong to her," he gasped, "Your little girlfriend is lying to you."

Oswald looked to Mr. Zsasz once more, and a gun was quickly pointed at the back of Richie Aldo's head.

"Alright alright," he said, his voice shaky now, "Look, I'm sorry. I am."

"Look at her when you speak."

He looked at Grace. "I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have said what I said. You're not a consort." He glanced back at Oswald.

"…What do you think, Grace? Do you forgive him?"

She didn't seem entirely convinced, but she still nodded. "I guess so."

Oswald smiled. "Isn't she sweet? Forgiving you like this after you were so insensitive. I must say, I admire her...But she wasn't the only one you insulted, Richmond. She is my guest, after all." He stood at his full height and looked down on the man. "Apologize to me now."

"I'm sorry. Really. I was out of my head. You're obviously not a man to mess around with. I get it."

Oswald looked to be thinking over his words for a moment. "As… _moving_ as that apology was, I'm afraid I am not as forgiving as my friend here. And, given my position, I really have little choice but to make an example of you."

"No." Aldo started to panic.

"Victor, take Richie out back and shoot him in the face."

Zsasz smirked and hoisted the man to his feet, guiding him firmly to the door in spite of his struggles and pleas for mercy.

"Wait," came the boss's voice.

Everyone froze and looked back at Oswald.

"What am I thinking? Where are my manners? Richmond, might I offer you a final drink?"

Aldo was too panicky to answer.

"I think I should. It may calm those pre-execution jitters."

"Something strong," the victim requested.

"Oh, the strongest," Oswald assured, "Michael, where's that drink?"

The young bartender hurried to him with a small, ornate glass filled with pale amber liquid.

Oswald handed it over to Aldo. "I hope you appreciate this. It's probably the finest thing you've ever had."

The man downed it in one gulp.

Looking pleased, Oswald returned to Grace and sat down next to her, taking her hand. He looked as though they were about to watch some long-awaited TV show together. Aldo was placed before them and released.

"What's going on?" As soon as he asked, he began to feel the effects. He gasped, suddenly struggling to breathe.

"Well, Richie, I wanted to watch you die. But the rug you're currently standing on—oh, or lying on rather—was quite expensive. So, I elected to go with poison." He turned to Grace, as Aldo was no longer listening. "Mind you, poisons are often messy themselves, but this one in particular is quick."

When Grace didn't respond, he ordered the body to be removed.

"Have I upset you?" he asked.

"…No. No, it's just…a lot to take in. I've never seen a man poisoned before. And…nobody's ever killed a man just for being mean to me."

* * *

When they arrived home, Oswald reluctantly bid Grace goodnight. He wanted more than anything to coax her into his room—she had made him proud today, and she reciprocated his interest, which was more than he'd hoped for—but he bit his tongue and acted like a gentleman.

It's not the right time, he repeated in his head; it's not the right time.

She did kiss him, however. It was a shy, chaste little kiss, but it was on the lips, and he spent the rest of the night pretty much obsessing over it.

In the wee hours of the morning, just before dawn, Oswald woke up for the fourth time. Honestly, he was too excited to sleep. So he got out of bed and found some paper.

Grace,

He crumpled up that sheet and started again.

Dearest Grace,

Good morning. I hope you slept well.

He scribbled out the words and crumpled up that sheet also.

 _Keep it simple, Oswald._

In his desk drawer, he found a blank card. Slowly, carefully, he wrote just two words in large, calligraphic script.

Good morning

He then crept downstairs and removed a white rose from a vase that Shani had placed in the dining room the morning before. Finally, as silently as possible, he entered Grace's room and placed the rose and the note on her nightstand, watching her carefully as he did so. She was fully asleep, her breathing shallow and steady. She slept on her back again, and again it was difficult not to touch her. Instead, he leaned over her, getting as close as he dared, and took a slow, deep breath.

Honey and lavender.

How he wanted to breathe it in continuously, to hold her against him and bury his face in her hair.

 _This scent will always be dear to me. It will always bring to mind this image, of Grace lying here looking like perfection._

He slipped out of the room as silently as he had entered and decided it was time to dress for the day.

As the morning gradually progressed, Oswald finally came to notice that Shani wasn't around. He found it a little worrisome until he remembered that she had run off the night before with Victor Zsasz. He decided to cut her some slack if it caused her to be late.

 _An odd pair, those two. They're both so…intense. I just hope they haven't injured one another._

He smirked at the idea of one of them coming to work with some kind of sex injury. It would be especially funny if it was Victor.

His thoughts were interrupted as Grace came down the stairs. She wore wedge heels and a yellow sundress with tiny white polka dots on it. Her golden hair was loose around her shoulders, and she had pinned the white rose behind her ear. She looked like a ray of sunshine in human form. He scrambled to his feet and smiled.

"Good morning," he said.

Her smile lit up the room. "Good morning."

 _She's really acting like she likes me. And it feels genuine._

"You're up early."

 _That's never happened before._

She shrugged. "I guess I was just really looking forward to today."

 _Can I handle it? Do I know what I'm doing?_

"Really…What a coincidence." There was a pause. "May I make you breakfast?"

"Sure! But, well, I mean, shouldn't I be making _you_ breakfast?"

He stepped closer. "You're not my assistant at the moment." He kissed her hand. "I told you, I'm…wooing you. Remember?"

"Well, okay. Twist my arm," she said good-naturedly.

Not having bothered with a suit jacket this morning, Oswald simply rolled up his sleeves upon entering the kitchen. Grace seated herself on the center barstool and propped her elbows up on the counter, watching him.

"I'm afraid breakfast…isn't going to be very elaborate," he said as he gathered supplies, "I can cook, but only the simple things. And Shani isn't here to arrange anything else."

"Where is Shani anyway?"

He set a tea kettle on the stove. "Oh, I bet you could guess."

He saw her blush a little out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot who she left with last night."

"…It should be amusing when she shows up later." He started peeling an apple.

"Yeah…Has she…done that sort of thing before?"

He sliced off a piece of the apple and put it in his mouth, thinking. He shook his head. "Not recently. And it's never made her late before." He sliced off another piece and handed it to her. "But I think I'll overlook it this time."

Grace chewed the apple thoughtfully.

 _What are you thinking?_

"I'll talk to her later," she said finally, "Want me to tell you if she gives me any interesting details?"

"You know me. I'll never turn away information."

"Including petty gossip?"

"Especially petty gossip."

They continued to share the apple until the kettle was whistling. Swiftly, Oswald prepared two teacups and set one in front of Grace. He then put some bread into the toaster. All the while, he kept an eye on her. It was obvious something was on her mind.

The toaster popped and he got butter out of the fridge.

"Penny for your thoughts." He stood across the counter from her and buttered the toast.

"Huh? Oh, I'm not thinking much of anything."

 _You're lying to me._

"Except maybe how handsome you look in your vest, with your sleeves rolled up like that."

 _…I hope that wasn't a lie._

"You give me too much credit." He slid her serving of toast over to her.

"Um, I think I give you exactly the right amount of credit." She laughed and picked up her teacup. "And…since you told me you like me…I can say things like that now, right?"

 _You're completely adorable…Should I say that out loud?_

"You're very welcome to, if that's what you want. I…plan on saying such things to you after all."

 _How about now, Oswald? Wouldn't now be a good time?_

"For instance…I think the way you've accessorized your hair this morning is completely charming."

 _You wore my rose. Could you be any more perfect?_

"Oh, you think so? I just found this in my room. And it totally goes with this dress. Can you believe my luck?"

He was about to respond, but tires squealed in the driveway, quickly followed by voices and car doors slamming. He furrowed his brow. Something was wrong. He limped to Grace's side of the counter and took hold of her arm, still listening.

"What is it?"

Out of the kitchen window, he saw gunmen surrounding the house. They took aim.

"Get down!"

He dragged her to the floor just as the bullets started to fly. Glass shattered, dishes broke, cabinets were torn to shreds. They hunkered behind the kitchen island, Oswald shielding Grace's head with his body. The gunfire lasted for a very long moment, and then suddenly ceased.

Grace looked at him, shaking, but he didn't have anything comforting to say.

"It's not over. Come on." He pulled her to her feet and pushed her towards the stairs. "Go. Hurry! Go to your room and barricade the door…And find a weapon!"

She was about halfway up the stairs when gunfire could be heard outside. Oswald risked a careful glance out a window. It was Victor and Shani, taking out a few of the gunmen as they came in behind them. That made him feel a little better, but there were still men out back who were probably entering the house right now.

Containing his panic, Oswald dug out one of the guns he had stashed all over the house and made sure it was firing ready. Leaning against the wall, he tried to still his breathing and listen. He heard the crunch of broken glass underfoot. They were inside.

 _Don't let this end badly for me._

"Oh Penguin," one of them called mockingly.

 _I only just got Grace to kiss me._

The next man who said 'Penguin' had two bullets in his chest before he could take another breath. Oswald clipped the next man in the shoulder, but had to take cover as another spray of bullets tore through the room. There were at least two more guys.

During the next lull, he made a break for his office. He fired off more rounds as they followed him. Another guy dropped, but there was still the injured one and the other fully functional one. Oswald remained at a frightening disadvantage.

As he entered his office, he got off a really lucky shot and the injured guy fell, a bullet in his forehead. But now he was cornered and sadly out of bullets. There was another gun in his desk, but he couldn't reach it before the other man came in. He had black hair and a scar across his nose. He smiled in grim satisfaction.

"I've got you now, bird man."

Suddenly, there was a scream. Not one of fear, but something more reminiscent of a battle cry. And then there was a knife in the scarred man's neck. And then it was removed and put back again, and again, and again. And as he fell, gurgling and gasping, there stood Grace, breathing hard, blood all over her yellow dress. Her eyes were wild, and the blade in her hand dripped crimson.

 _I'm going to marry this woman._

After a few seconds, her eyes seemed to come back into focus and she looked at the dead man, then at the knife in her hand. And then the weapon clattered to the floor. As she stared at the blood on herself, her eyes lost focus again. Oswald couldn't quite catch her before she lost consciousness.


	10. Chapter 10

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 10**

"Grace."

She could hear a muffled voice.

"Grace?"

It was distant, but quickly coming closer.

" _Grace_."

It sounded worried.

Her eyes opened. Oswald was kneeling over her. She could feel his hand on her cheek, then her forehead. She was on the floor.

"What…Did I—?" She didn't know what she wanted to say.

She tried to move. When she did, she felt a warm, sticky sensation. She glanced down at herself and fear gripped her heart. She was covered in blood, and there was blooding pooling all over the floor around her. Oswald had blood on him, too. Probably from touching her. A couple of tears escaped her eyes and her breathing became erratic as she began to panic.

But then he was pulling her up into a sitting position and holding her tightly. "Sshhh," he comforted, "You're alright. It's okay…You saved us."

She trembled, still feeling the sensation of warm blood cooling on her skin. "I killed…I killed him. I've never—" The lump in her throat choked out her words.

He only held her tighter. "Hush…It's always hardest the first time. You did what you had to do."

 _The first time…Will I have to kill again?_

Approaching footsteps startled her, and she huddled further into him. She didn't see the gun he held in his other hand. But a second later, she felt him relax and she heard Shani's voice.

"Is she alright?"

"Yes. Just…a little shaken. She took down this last one herself." He nodded to the dead man.

The butler's voice was relieved. "Good. Very good. Well done, Grace."

"Did you take anyone alive?" Now Oswald sounded sort of angry, but the way he was holding her made her feel secure.

"Victor's got one now." The dark-skinned woman gave a hint of a smile. "He's like a cat playing with a mouse. We should be updated on the situation in no time."

"Good." He turned his attention back to Grace. "Can you stand?"

Shani helped them both to their feet. Grace almost slipped in the blood, though she had removed her shoes before she'd come back downstairs to help.

The blood…

 _Oh God. It's everywhere. I'm covered._

Her stomach lurched and she broke away from her protectors, going as quickly as she could to the bathroom down the hall. She barely made it to the toilet before she spilled her guts.

 _There goes the tea. And the toast. Oh, and there's the apple._

Tears streamed down her cheeks as her body forcefully purged itself. It was all she could do to keep her hair out of it. But then she felt cool fingers on her neck and her hair was swept back. It was Oswald. He pulled the rose out of her hair and set it aside. There were flecks of blood on it. She retched again.

 _This is so embarrassing. So unattractive. He'll never look at me the same after this._

Finally, there was simply nothing left for her stomach to eject. She went limp, trying to catch her breath, her eyes still squeezed shut. After a pause, Oswald reached over and flushed the toilet, then stood. She heard him turn on the sink. She peeked up at him. He had a wet washcloth in his hand and was kneeling beside her again. Then her eyes drifted to her bloodstained hand and she felt queasy once more.

"Don't look at it," he said, "Just keep your eyes closed…I'm here."

She closed her eyes as he put the cloth to her face. The coolness felt wonderful against her skin and the queasiness dissipated.

"I'm sorry," she muttered.

"Don't apologize."

After another moment, he moved away again and Grace heard him turn on the bathtub faucet.

"Come here."

She followed his voice and scooted over to the edge of the tub. He guided her hands into the water and began to scrub off the thick blood. When she was clean—her hands anyway—he shut the water off.

"I'll get Shani to help you with your dress."

He was about to get up, but she stopped him. "No, wait." Somehow, the thought of Shani seeing her so vulnerable, so squeamish and weak, seemed worse than Oswald seeing her this way. "Don't leave me."

He hesitated. "I don't think you want me to help you."

She tilted her head down. He was being such a gentleman. Meanwhile, she felt like anything but a lady right now.

 _A lady stays calm and collected. Like Shani._

"It's okay. Please don't go."

 _I'm not as strong as Shani._

He sighed through his nose and took a moment to think. "Then I have two questions. One, are you comfortable with me…undressing you?"

 _Am I?_

She opened her eyes briefly. He was staring into her face, awaiting her answer with uncertainty. Then she glimpsed the state of her dress and closed her eyes again.

 _It's better than dealing with that myself…And I trust him._

She nodded. He made a tiny whimpering noise in the back of his throat, but recovered quickly and asked his next question.

"Two, will you be able to handle seeing the blood as you rinse it off in the shower?"

 _Good question._

 _Okay, Grace, just pull yourself together for a second and think._

"…I don't…regret killing that man. Because he would've killed you."

"I'm glad you see it that way."

"But…I'm really reacting badly to all this blood…I'm afraid I'll freak out again." Tears pricked at her eyes.

He exhaled a laugh. "Don't be afraid of freaking out. That just makes you freak out."

"…What should I do?"

She could practically hear the gears in his mind turning.

"There are a few options." He cleared his throat. "One might be that I switch off the lights. But…if you can't see, how will you know you're getting all the blood off?"

"…What's another option?"

"I could still get Shani for you. She's…a woman. You might be more comfortable if she helped you wash up."

 _Nope. Highly uncomfortable._

"What else?"

She felt him tense up.

He spoke more shyly this time. "I could help you…" He paused. "In a purely professional sort of way, of course. I would barely even need to touch you. I would just…need to see you."

 _He would see me naked._

 _We're barely together. He really only just started wooing me. It's too soon to get naked._

 _But, well…_

 _He_ did _say he would be professional about it. And we're both mature adults, right? We could do this without being sexual._

 _…And I want to do this._

"Okay," she said.

He exhaled as if he'd been holding his breath. She could hear the smile in his voice.

"Alright. Okay. I'll be right back. Don't move."

He stood and exited the bathroom. She heard his voice just down the hall. He was saying something, probably to Shani. She couldn't make it out. Then he was back and she heard him lock the door. She wondered briefly if she had ever felt shyer in her entire life.

 _A man's never seen me naked before…What if he doesn't like what he sees?_

She felt him take her hands and pull her gently to her feet. Her heart was starting to pound.

He held her by the shoulders and spoke softly. "Just relax. I'm…not going to do anything that you don't want me to."

She nodded hesitantly. He let her go and got the shower going. Then one hand was on her shoulder again.

"Turn around," he said near her ear.

She did so, and felt him slowly unzip her dress. She could feel his eyes gazing at the bare flesh of her back and it made her blush from head to toe. Her breathing was shallow now. So was his.

He spoke in her ear again. "Stay calm." She heard him swallow and take a slow, deep breath. Then he brushed the dress from her shoulders and pulled it down, gently tugging at the places where the blood made it stick to her skin. She was turned away from him, but still she covered her breasts. She couldn't help it.

He placed his cheek right next to hers. She then felt his hands at her hips, about to remove her underwear. She gasped.

"My eyes are up here," he said, pushing his cheek briefly against hers, "I'm not looking. I promise."

Then her panties were around her ankles. She inhaled sharply.

"You're…You're okay. I'm still not looking. You can…open your eyes long enough to step into the shower, I think."

The shower curtain was open. Looking straight ahead, she jumped in quickly and closed it, going right into the soothing hot water. The first thing she did was rinse the taste of bile thoroughly out of her mouth, which immediately made her feel all the better. The blood caught her eye again as it began to swirl around the drain.

 _That's…not so bad. I can handle this. I guess he distracted me enough and I calmed down._

"Are you…acclimating alright in there?" came his voice.

 _I should tell him that I'm alright now. He can go._

"…Yes. I'm alright…um…I guess you can help me now." She covered her breasts with her arms again.

 _What are you doing, Grace?_

She barely had her eyes closed again before he pulled aside the shower curtain. She turned away from him a bit, but there was no hiding from him now. He took in a breath and there was a pause.

 _He's staring at me._

She could hear her pulse in her ears.

 _It's…exciting._

Oswald found his words then. "There's…There's not really anything on your back." He cleared his throat. "Turn please…Just a bit."

She did, but still tried to preserve _some_ of her modesty, keeping her hips twisted away.

"Most of it is on your chest. And under your arms, from what I can see. Just…get what you can, and I'll…make certain you don't miss anything."

She nodded and started to scrub at the dried blood. It was plastered all over her chest, and she couldn't really keep her breasts covered as she worked. And it was easy to sense that he was still watching.

 _Just go with it. Be bold. You know you want to. He's been so sweet._

Taking a deep breath, she stopped trying to cover herself. It freed her arms, making washing easier, but it also left her breasts exposed to Oswald—her boss…her boyfriend?—and she heard him stifle a quiet moan.

She tried not to smile.

After another moment of washing and rinsing, she turned just a bit more towards him. "Did I miss anything?"

His breath seemed to catch in his throat again. "Uh…no. Actually, no, I don't…see anything."

He was trying, really trying, but the longing was apparent in his voice.

 _I'm being mean. I'm just teasing him now. I could've done this without him. I could've opened my eyes this whole time._

And then Grace did open her eyes. She hadn't exactly meant to, but she did, and it made the whole situation feel a hundred times more real. And awkward. His own icy blue ones locked on to hers.

He looked as vulnerable as she felt.

"…Oswald?"

"Yes?" He barely had a voice anymore.

"Did I…do the wrong thing? Is this…too much too soon?"

He glanced at her breasts again, just for a split second, but she could see he was trying not to. And she wasn't making it any easier. She hadn't covered herself again.

"…Is it…too much for _you_?" His eyes begged her to say no.

Slowly, she shook her head. Relief flashed across his face and he let out a breath.

"Then it's not too much for me," he said, smiling shyly.

 _Don't do it, Grace. Don't push him any further._

"Would you…care to join me?"

 _Grace!_

His eyes couldn't have gotten any wider. "…What?"

She immediately felt awkward, her face hot. "I mean…there's blood on you, too. And, um, it would, like…save water?"

 _I'm making a fool of myself._

He smiled. He was stunned, to say the least, but suddenly very excited.

"Y-You make an excellent point. I…I admit, a similar idea did cross my mind." He gave a nervous chuckle. He was about to unbutton his vest then, but stopped, then shrugged slightly. "…How shall we go about this?"

She started to close the shower curtain. "You just…get undressed, and come in when you're ready." She finished closing it and turned back into the water.

 _I'm completely out of my mind!_

She put her face in the stream and bounced a little on the balls of her feet. She couldn't believe she was actually doing this.

After a moment of listening for him, Grace couldn't resist. Ever so carefully, she peeked out to see how far he had progressed in shedding his clothes. Almost everything was off and on the floor. Only his underwear remained. He was holding his pants, looking vaguely displeased at the bloodstains on them. He had probably paid a lot for that ensemble, and now it was ruined.

Then he turned and caught her eye. She dodged back behind the curtain, and he chuckled to himself. Judging from his shadow, he was going to get in behind her, so she turned quickly to face the water, suddenly tense.

 _Just breathe. This is too exciting to be wrong._

She closed her eyes when she heard him come in.

 _So here we are, naked in the shower together. What is this, our second date?_

Grace felt so very naked in that moment. She felt his eyes lingering all over her. She felt frozen in place. If he was waiting for her to turn around, he would be waiting forever.

He didn't wait long, however. Cautiously, he stepped closer to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. She gasped softly, her eyes still closed. With his other hand, he pushed her wet hair away from the left side of her neck, and then he kissed her there. She gasped again. Tingles were suddenly going all over the place.

As he continued to plant kisses on her warm skin, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, just above her breasts, pulling their bodies closer. A quiet moan escaped her lips, which inspired a deep sigh from him. He spoke in her ear then, never loosening his hold.

"Grace…" He kissed her cheek. "I want you…You're so perfect." Another kiss. "You're driving me mad."

 _What have I gotten myself into?_

Grace didn't know what to say, but she didn't get the chance to speak. Suddenly, he turned her by the shoulders and made her face him directly. For a moment, they only stared into each other's eyes. She had never seen him look so strained.

Or so affectionate.

He took a breath. "Grace…You can look at me…It's okay. You can look down."

She started with a shy glance. He took half a step back to give her a better view. Having never seen a naked man in this sort of situation, she didn't know what she expected. His body seemed normal. His skin was pale all over, though not entirely devoid of freckles. He was really smooth, but everywhere there was hair, it was black, in sharp contrast with his complexion. He wasn't particularly muscular, but he was lean and trim.

But all of that was just fleeting observation…

Grace knew what an erection was. She also knew what it was for. And, from what she had heard, some men had bigger ones than others. But she had never seen one, so she had nothing to compare this to. She didn't know if his would be considered "big" or not. All she knew was that it looked too big to go comfortably inside of her.

 _I'm in over my head right now. I can't keep this going._

Oswald must have seen her anxiety, because he pulled himself close to her again. "What's wrong?" he asked gently. There was a hint of self-consciousness betrayed in his voice.

"…I can't do this. I'm…I'm not ready. I'm sorry."

He kissed her forehead. "I told you I wouldn't do anything you didn't want me to…And, in the spirit of being open with one another, I couldn't have allowed myself…even if you were ready."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm determined to do this right, Grace. And the timing would be terrible if we…made love right this second."

The blood rushed to her cheeks. "Yeah. It's too soon."

"Well, that, and I don't have any protection."

She winced. "So it was pretty lousy of me to tempt you in here, wasn't it?"

"God, no. Not at all. It's been…a _privilege_ to see you like this. And to touch you. It really turned this day around."

She smirked. "Who knew me stabbing a guy in the neck three or four times would lead us _here_?"

He shrugged, smiling. "It's a crazy, mixed-up world."

"So what should we do now? Should I get out and let you, um, rinse off?"

He didn't look too keen on that suggestion. "Here…turn around again."

She obeyed and turned into the water. He placed himself behind her, just as close as he dared, and then reached for the shampoo. Seconds later, he was massaging a palm-full of it into her hair. It caught her a little off guard. Grace had never fathomed the idea of a man washing her hair…but she liked it.

When he was done, she turned around and leaned back, rinsing out the lather. She smiled up at him when she was through.

"Thanks. That was…a nice surprise."

"Oh, but I had a sneaky, ulterior motive," he replied.

"What was it?"

Instead of answering, he leaned forward. At first, she thought he was going to kiss her, but his head went past her and into the water. When he emerged, his hair sopping wet, he wiped his eyes and then handed her the shampoo bottle. She laughed a little and planted a tiny kiss on his cheek. Then they switched and she lathered up his hair.

 _We're going to smell the same after this._

When they were all done, they hesitated. And then, like magnets, they came together. He kissed her until she was breathless, and he could hardly breathe himself. His hands drifted over her body, skirting her intimate areas, but never touching anything inappropriate. She appreciated his control, but it was also maddening.

At last, he pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers, catching his breath. "We have to stop. It's…bad timing, remember?"

"Right," she panted, "Yeah. Time to get out…What are we going to do after this?"

He frowned slightly. "Well, a fairly strong attempt has been made on my life, so…I have work to do. That is to say, _we_ have work to do."

"Right." She scoffed at herself. "Duh. I knew that."

* * *

At first, Oswald wasn't certain that she should be there when they interrogated their captive. After all, she had fainted _and_ thrown up just a couple hours earlier. He made a good point, but Grace wanted to stay by his side just the same. If he was serious about having a relationship with her, then she needed to be equally serious about it. And there was no changing his line of work. She would have to become accustomed to the violent side of it. So she assured Oswald that she was totally fine, that the blood really wasn't bothering her anymore.

It was mostly true.

The man was taken to a back room, one that had been built by the previous owner, Carmine Falcone, specifically for this kind of business. Grace had only been in there once, when Oswald had killed Justin, the rat. She had handled that alright, but she had a feeling it might be a little gorier this time. Already, this guy was pretty banged up. Bracing herself for whatever she was about to witness, she took a seat near the wall and quietly observed.

What's-his-name was tied to a chair in the middle of the room, looking terrified, which was appropriate. Zsasz stood to the side, just behind him. Oswald stood directly in front of him.

"Well well well," he said mockingly, "Here we are. I'm alive, your comrades are dead, and…you're tied to a chair. This morning just hasn't worked out like any of us thought it would, has it?" He glanced back at Grace. "Luckily for you, I'm in an _unexpectedly_ good humor today. So if you would please just answer all of my questions, we can get through this as painlessly as possible."

"I…I can't. Listen, you've gotta believe me. I told your guy already. I can't say anything…No matter what you do to me." The man swallowed.

"…Well that's very brave of you. Unfortunately, it just means we have to do this the hard way."

He started to shake. "Please. The…the people I work for…They would kill my family if I told you so much as my name."

"That's interesting." Oswald considered for a moment. "Let me ask you this. If you told me what I wanted to know, and then I killed you, how would they know you told me anything?"

"I…can't say any more."

Oswald huffed in frustration. "Well…of course it needed to be complicated…Fine." He leaned down to meet the man's eyes. "You have my condolences, but I'm not responsible for the situation you've put your family in…Now-" He pulled a pair of gardening clippers out of his pocket. "Let's see how much you really love them, shall we?"

Grace flinched when the first couple of fingers came off. It wasn't because of the snipping sound, or even the blood really. It was the screaming that was bothersome. But at one point, she made eye contact with Victor, and he nodded towards a supply wrack to her left. When she looked, she spotted a pair of sound-blocking headphones and quietly stood to retrieve them. When they were on, she immediately felt better, and mouthed a 'thank you' to Zsasz. He looked away and didn't acknowledge her, but she smiled at him anyway.

 _That was maybe the most human thing I've ever seen him do. He must be in a crazy good mood._

The screaming was only a faint noise in the distance now. She could just pretend she was watching a movie with the volume turned down low. And it was a pretty graphic movie. The guy didn't give anything away through all of his fingers, which Grace found to be impressive.

 _I don't think I could last through even one finger. I'd sing like a canary…Does that make me a coward?_

She tried to focus mostly on Oswald instead of the guy he was torturing. The boss honestly seemed to enjoy his work. He alternated between asking forceful questions, concentrating on causing pain, and smiling deviously.

 _Should I find that disturbing?_

But he had seemed self-conscious when he'd first started, glancing back at her sometimes. Like he was afraid that she would get sick or upset, or maybe change her mind about staying with him. He had told her about five times that she could leave the room if she wanted to.

 _Maybe I shouldn't have made him let me stay…_

 _But I really want him to know that I can handle all this._

Every time he looked, she had smiled at him and tried to look at ease. Eventually, he seemed to relax and stopped looking back, focusing solely on his work.

 _How can he be so gentle and sweet one minute, and so vicious the next?_

Victor started to help him by the time he had finished with the first hand, in part just to staunch the bleeding. They wanted the man to suffer, but not lose consciousness. Victor was quite proficient when it came to that. Still, the guy was really holding out. And if cutting all his fingers off wasn't making him talk, Grace wondered what on earth would.

Finally, Oswald called it.

"I congratulate you, my fingerless friend. Love has obviously given you strength. And I respect that. But not getting answers _isn't_ something I'm okay with…Victor, take him home for a while, would you?"

Zsasz turned his intense gaze to the victim. "I'll bring him back in a couple weeks."

Oswald looked at the victim with dissatisfaction. "Make it a week."

The assassin shrugged. "The work won't be as good."

"I don't need him fully trained, Victor. I just need information."

Zsasz put a hand on the tortured man's shoulder. "Sounds like you're in for quite a week."

Oswald turned from them and approached Grace, who smiled and removed her headphones. He almost reached out to her, but stopped and held up his hands apologetically. They were splattered with blood. He clasped them behind his back.

"I hope you didn't find this too disturbing. I wouldn't have advised you to watch. It can be such dirty work."

The concern in his eyes was refreshing, comforting, especially after seeing how sadistic he was just moments before. Grace stood and gave him a hug.

"I'm okay," she said, "I don't know why the blood bothered me so much before. I guess because it was all over me."

"That…must have been it. But nevertheless, I don't want you exposed to any more of this today. You haven't had time to recover."

"…Alright. What should I do?"

His eyes remained vaguely unhappy, maybe even worried. It made her nervous.

"Pack your things. We're moving to my safe-house until I can figure this out."

* * *

 **My charming readers :)**

 **I'd like to thank you for your kind reviews. Each one has been an encouragement and a treasure. I also deeply appreciate those of you who have followed and favorited. It's the best kind of feeling when a writer's work is well-liked. I hope you all continue to enjoy.**

 **All my love,**

 **LightAlpha25**


	11. Chapter 11

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 11**

Oswald might have described his day as something like a maddening tailspin of chaos. The night before had been such a success. His club had opened without a hitch, and he had unexpectedly connected with Grace much sooner than he'd planned. Things were going smoothly, too smoothly, and then suddenly they were being shot at. That in itself made the day tumultuous, but with the torture having failed, he still didn't know who was trying to have him killed. Ultimately, though, he would sort it out. This was part of the job. It certainly wasn't the first time someone had tried to murder him.

The day became particularly complicated, however, when Grace decided to invite him into the shower. It was…kind of bizarre, to have a fantasy like that actually come true all of a sudden. He hadn't been altogether surprised when she had reacted so badly to killing a man. She was a sweet-natured girl, and she had never been that violent before. It had shocked her. But Oswald had certainly been surprised at her quick recovery, and then the sexiness that had followed.

 _Would you…care to join me?_

Her words still gave him goosebumps as they echoed in his head, distracting him. He had tried, and with tremendous difficulty, to look at her naked body in a professional way, like he had promised. He had to do whatever it took to fully gain her trust.

 _God, she's perfect. Smooth and soft. Curves in all the right places._

But he had never seen a naked woman in that particular context. He'd seen and worked around show girls before, many of whom also took customers up to private rooms if the price was right. He couldn't say that this had been his first time seeing a pair of breasts. But that had just been a work environment, and though his body had reacted sometimes, he had ignored it all as much as possible. Lust was just another weakness to be exploited in others.

But he knew and liked Grace as a person. And she wasn't a whore. She let him see her because she felt safe with him. There was no way, in reality, that he could look at her body with any actual professionalism.

 _Has anyone, in all my life, ever trusted me_ that _much?_

He had returned the trust, swallowing the crippling anxiety that had risen in his chest and allowing her to look at him as he looked at her. He knew his flaws better than anyone, and he had searched her eyes for any trace of disgust.

 _She just looked curious. And shy. And decadent._

Being in that shower with her was the most delectable torture Oswald had ever experienced. To be that close, to be naked with her, and yet to force himself not to explore her body the way he truly wanted, it had taken every ounce of his well-honed self-control. But he would never cease to appreciate the passionate kiss they had shared at the very end. She had pulled him close, and, in doing so, pressed her breasts against his chest.

 _I swear to God, that will not be the last shower I take with her. And that will be one of the many places I make love to her when the time is right._

Oswald shook his head as he climbed the stairs. He wouldn't deserve to make love to her if he couldn't keep her safe, and he wasn't doing such a great job of that just now.

 _The safe-house is the best option for the time being. The only option, really. Victor will have the information I need in a week, and then—_

His thoughts were interrupted by women's voices coming from Grace's room. It sounded like Shani was in there with her.

 _Good. Shani will make sure she's really okay._

As he passed by, however, he could just make out what they were saying, and his interest was piqued.

"I can't say he was talkative about it," came Shani's smooth voice, "but I could tell I rocked his world. And, well, I have to admit, he was _quite_ good himself. Pretty rough, you know, but I wanted it rough."

Oswald crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, getting comfortable. What he wouldn't have given to see Grace's face as Shani chatted about her one-night stand with Victor Zsasz.

"…Well, I'm glad you got what you wanted."

Poor, sweet, uncomfortable Grace.

"You're a dear…But something's on your mind, I see. What's the matter? Are you still upset about earlier, and what you did?"

"No. I'm okay…But I do…maybe have a question though."

"Yeah? What is it?"

 _Yeah, what is it?_

"It's about…um…guys."

"Oh." Now Shani sounded really interested. "What about guys?"

"Have you been with…several?"

"Are you trying to ask me about sex?"

Oswald swallowed and leaned closer. Grace didn't answer.

"You can ask me anything. I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"…I…Well, I guess I…um…"

"Have you had any experience with it?"

"…No."

Oswald's heart skipped a beat. He took a deep breath and kept listening, trying to stay calm.

"Alright, nothing wrong with that," said Shani, "How much do you know?"

"I know…the basics. Like, I know where everything goes. And I know that it can get you pregnant if you're not, um, careful."

"Okay. Well, those are the basics, yeah. But there are a lot of ways to do it. And let's not forget about the element of pleasure, which is the most important part if you ask me."

"I just…I wish I knew what I was doing."

"Thinking of taking the plunge, are you?"

"…Thinking of it."

 _Breathe. Don't get overexcited. Breathe and listen._

"Thinking about bangin' the boss, I daresay." Shani said this teasingly, but it was met with silence. "No need to be shy about it. He's liked you from the start. And you must like him alright if you wanted his help in the shower this morning."

"I…" Grace sighed. "I really do like him. More than anyone I've ever met."

 _I don't…think I deserve this._

"I'd like to…be with him," she continued, "But I don't know what I'm doing. And I don't really know what to expect. You know?"

"Everybody's nervous their first time. My advice to you is to just let it happen naturally. Just follow your feelings."

"…Does it hurt? At first?"

"Depends. The trick is to stay relaxed. But don't focus on whether or not it might hurt a bit. Focus on him. Talk to him. Tell him what feels good and what doesn't…Perfectionist that he is, he'll be keen to get it right."

 _Yes. Thank you, Shani. Thank you._

"So…communicate and relax. Those are the tricks?"

"The basic ones, yeah. But do make sure you've got protection. Don't want any baby Cobblepots running amok around here, do we?"

"…No," Grace replied, "Talk about bad timing. And I'm…too young anyway."

 _Too young…_

 _But what about the years to come, Grace? If we survive them, that is._

 _…Is that what you want?_

An odd feeling came into his chest at the thought of children. He had never considered them before.

 _I shouldn't consider them at all. It's bad enough just having to worry about protecting_ her _._

He began to chew his thumbnail.

 _On the other hand, what kind of legacy am I building right now? Who will my empire fall to when I'm dead? After all, some day, I_ will _be dead._

 _Should I allow the name Cobblepot to die with me?_

This was something to consider, but he realized that he was getting _way_ ahead of himself. He pulled away from his eavesdropping and headed to his own room. Getting Grace into bed would have to wait, and this was certainly not the time to plan a family. They were currently in a state of crisis, and that is what needed his foremost attention.

 _I have about seventeen calls to make. Gotham is going to have to survive for a few days without me._

* * *

Oswald drove Grace and himself to the safe-house. Gabe went ahead of them to make sure it was clear, Shani drove behind to make certain there were no tails, and he employed a decoy to throw off anyone watching the house. Every precaution he could think of, Oswald took it.

It was late at night when they arrived at the cabin. Grace was asleep against the passenger door. It reminded him a little of himself when Maroni had brought him up there.

 _So much has changed. And yet here I am, still running for my life._

He unbuckled and leaned over towards her.

"Grace," he said softly, touching her shoulder, "Grace."

She awoke, startled. "I didn't mean to fall asleep." Her voice was nervous, scared almost.

He furrowed his brow.

 _Where did that come from?_

"It's fine." He stroked her arm. "I'm glad at least one of us got some rest."

"Oh." She seemed to remember where she was now. "Are we here?"

He gestured out the window and smiled tiredly. "We're here. It's…not the Ritz, but…we should be safe."

"Well that's all that matters, right?"

"My thoughts exactly." He sighed. "Let's go inside and get settled, shall we?"

He pulled a flashlight out of the glove compartment and grabbed his small bag out of the backseat. The woods had a sort of ominous feeling in the dark, so he didn't dally in leading Grace to the house. The door opened with the turn of a key and a quick fingerprint scan (something he'd had installed soon after taking the place over), and he switched the lights on.

It wasn't much. Small and rustic, Maroni had seen it as a place where he could get back to the simple things, just man and Nature. Oswald didn't have much appreciation for that way of thinking. And he had zero happy memories of this cabin. But it was a good hiding spot. Secluded and unassuming. He was glad to have access to it.

"Well…this is it," he said, "Nothing fancy, as I said, but-" He shrugged. "-fairly comfortable."

She looked around. "Oh, I think it's pretty nice. I've definitely lived in worse."

"So have I."

"Oh my gosh; Gabe left cinnamon rolls!"

She beamed at the box that had been left on the kitchen table.

"How thoughtful of him." Oswald didn't bother telling her that he had told Gabe to leave them. He was too exhausted to care, and he didn't begrudge the man a little extra credit.

She stepped up to him then. "You look tired," she said, putting a hand to his cheek.

He closed his eyes and sighed. Her warm hand on his face threatened to make him melt. "I'm fine." He shook his head a bit. "But you go on to bed. Pick whichever bedroom you like. There are two of them." He pointed towards the other end of the house.

"Won't you go to bed, too?"

"I need to wait for the all-clear. It shouldn't be long."

"Okay." She kissed his cheek. "Goodnight."

He watched her go. "Goodnight."

Once she was gone, he looked around the cabin, making sure everything was in order. He checked and double-checked the security system, and set a few extra logs next to the fireplace. He was tempted to sit down, but he was bound to fall asleep if he did.

Finally, Shani arrived. "We're clear," she said as she came in, "There was a tail, but one epic car chase later, he's at the bottom of a ravine."

She was clearly still buzzing from the adrenaline. Meanwhile, Oswald could barely keep his eyes open anymore.

"Fine. Good. Help yourself to a cinnamon roll. I'm going to bed."

"Goodnight, sir."

As he shuffled down the hall, he paused for a second in front of Grace's room, considering. But he thought better of it and went on to his own room. Once he was in his pajamas, he fell right into bed. It took no time at all for him to drift off.

As his mind relaxed, he began to think of his mother. It was a memory from his childhood. One of the few good ones. She had let him keep a bird, a little songbird, after his father had died. He had taught it to hop onto his finger and chirp three times. How his mom's face lit up when he had shown her.

"Oswald," whispered a voice.

His eyes flew open and he sat up suddenly. For an instant, he was disoriented, but reality returned to him quickly. A small, feminine silhouette was standing next to the bed.

"Grace?"

"Yeah, it's me," she said rather sheepishly, "Sorry. I didn't know you were asleep."

"I'm not." He ran his hand over his face. "What, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong…um…But this place…I've never been out of the city before, and…"

"I see. I understand." He rubbed his eyes. "It's different out here. I don't…really like it either."

"Do you think I could…um…?"

Finally, the fog in his brain dissipated. "Oh! Yes. Of course. You didn't, you didn't have to ask." He folded the covers down and scooted over a bit, inviting her in.

"Are you sure I won't disturb you?"

 _I don't care if you disturb me._

"Nonsense." He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "You're more than welcome."

"Thank you." She slid into bed next to him and pulled the covers over herself. There was a pause. "Goodnight," she said softly.

He smiled to himself. "Goodnight, Grace."

 _Naturally, she lies on her back. Now what do I do?_

Oswald settled back down somewhat awkwardly, not sure how to position himself with someone else in the bed. He decided to lie on his side, facing her, but with his eyes closed.

But he really wanted to touch her.

 _This is ridiculous. I've touched her before. I've seen her naked, for God's sake._

He reached over a moment later and tenderly rested a hand on her arm. She let out a gentle sigh and touched his hand. Contentedness washed over him for the first time that day, and again he began to drift. But he didn't think of his mother. This time, it was Grace, and it was the future instead of the past.

In his mind, she wore that yellow dress again, and looked like the golden ray of sunshine that she was. She would smile and embrace him whenever he came home. She would listen to him, and support him, and love him. And he would provide for her, give her beautiful things, like a bird trying to impress his mate. He would keep her safe. He would think of every possible problem and solve it before it happened.

She would be untouchable to everyone but him.

* * *

A stray beam of sunlight shone through the curtains and into his eyes, waking him. As his brain switched back on and he remembered where he was, Oswald realized that his mouth was pressed against Grace's shoulder, and furthermore, his arm was draped rather possessively across her middle.

 _I must have moved in my sleep. I wonder if she was awake when I pulled her close like this._

With each gentle breath, Grace's chest expanded and contracted, and Oswald quickly noticed her breasts, as his face was fairly close to them. He'd had the pleasure of seeing them before, but not of touching or kissing them, or of anything else that he desperately wanted to do with them.

 _Would it be wrong to explore them a bit if she's asleep?_

 _And more importantly, what are my chances of getting caught?_

Tentatively, he lifted his arm off of her and propped up on his elbow, looking her over. The green pajama top that she wore wasn't any more substantial that the average t-shirt, and he could see that she wasn't wearing a bra. Biting back the urge to pull off all of these damn clothes and get between her beautiful legs, he restrained his movement to just his one arm. Cautiously, he placed a gentle hand on her stomach and looked at her face, searching for any sign of her waking up. When nothing changed, he ever so carefully slid his hand underneath her shirt, letting out a soft sigh as he made contact with her warm skin. When she didn't stir, he hand ghosted upwards, coming to rest between her breasts. His heart beat a little faster. But what was left of his conscience unfortunately started to nag at him.

 _I'm being sneaky. Does this count as some sort of violation?_

With a deep sigh, he dragged his hand away from her chest and withdrew from her shirt, closing his eyes and settling back down into his pillow with a huff. Being a gentleman was one of the most frustrating things he'd ever dealt with.

 _All in good time. All in good time. It's just a matter of coaxing. How long did it take to teach my bird to come on command? This is the same principle. If I move too fast, she'll fly away._

Oswald took a slow, deep breath and summoned his long-suffering patience, trying to focus on something else.

 _Okay, I need to get up soon. I have to call Victor and send Shani back to town. Then I'll call—_

His thoughts were suddenly cut off when Grace rolled over onto her side. She came nose to nose with him. His eyes flew open. Hers slowly blinked as she woke up, and a smile grew on her face. Then, to his great surprise, she rubbed noses with him affectionately.

He grinned. "Good morning."

Her green eyes slid shut again. "Mmm. Good morning," she said drowsily.

"You slept well, I hope."

"Yeah." She yawned, rubbing her eyes. "I thought I'd be too creeped out to sleep much, with the woods outside and everything. But getting into bed with you seemed to do the trick."

This was exciting, waking up with a pretty girl.

Oswald sat up. "I'm-I'm glad it worked out that way. I know…how different it feels out here. You're right. The woods are…well, creepy."

She sat up with him. "Are you sure I didn't disturb you? Did you sleep okay?"

 _Always thinking of me. Always trying so hard not to be a burden. Really, I'd be an idiot not to marry her._

"I-I slept very well. Better than ever…And I can't say I've ever woken up to something so beautiful."

 _And there's the blush. I need to try to make her blush more often. It's cute._

"You're really sweet."

Her smile faded a bit, however, as she looked around.

"Oswald…what do we have to do today? Are we still in danger?"

He gave her a sympathetic look and ran his thumb over her cheek. "I don't want you to worry. These people are after me, not you. And once I find out who they are, I can stop them."

"Can I do anything to help?"

His smile returned and he took her hand in both of his. "Just…survive with me out here for a while. I've done this before, disappeared from Gotham for a few days." He shrugged. "It happens. But having you here to keep me company is…such a nice change of pace."

She smiled, but her eyes became curious. "Will Shani be staying with us the whole time?"

Oswald raised his eyebrows.

 _That's a delightfully mischievous question, dearest._

"No. In fact, I'll be sending her off this morning. Someone still has to oversee my empire, after all."

She brightened up at his answer. "Oh. Well that's good. I'm sure she's the best person for the job."

He was starting to feel that tension between them again.

 _Damn it. I didn't think to bring protection._

"Breakfast?" she asked after a moment.

 _Damn it. Damn it. Damn it._

"We might as well." He tried to look as cheerful as possible, but inside he was kicking himself.

 _Missing that little detail is going to cost you, Oswald. Hope you enjoy all of this quality private time you suddenly have together, because you will be spending none of it having sex._

Grace started to get up, but stopped. "Do you…want to kiss me?"

He couldn't help but smile. She continued to surprise him, and in the pleasantest of ways. Before he could even think about stopping himself, he was kissing her, his hand gently grasping her neck.

 _Why, God, did I not_ think _? How will I ever keep my hands off of her?_

"Oswald?" Grace asked as the kiss came to an end.

"Yes?" His eyes were still closed as he lingered near her lips.

"What are we? To each other? I mean, since we've kissed and…seen each other in the shower and stuff?"

He opened his eyes. That was a good question. He supposed the logical answer was that they were boyfriend and girlfriend now, but that didn't feel right. It sounded so juvenile. He might have said they were lovers. That felt closer to the truth. But they hadn't made love yet—and apparently couldn't for a little while—so it didn't seem like the thing to say either.

 _I can't say something like_ betrothed _. That would just weird her out._

"We're…together. Monogamously. I'm…not sure yet what to call it, but…will that do, for now?"

She kissed his cheek. "Sure," she said, but she looked _un_ sure.

 _Are you starting to realize that I'm totally unworthy of you?_

There were a few seconds of silence between them, along with that lingering tension. Finally, Oswald sighed and smiled.

"Would you like a cinnamon roll?"

She grinned. "Yes, please."


	12. Chapter 12

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 12**

Grace absently sucked the sticky sugar from her fingers as she sat at the table and watched Oswald make several calls in succession. He hadn't gotten dressed yet, so it was kind of funny watching him pace back and forth in his flannel pajamas, giving orders to criminals. He spoke to them just as if he was there, looking down on them, wearing his super fancy suit, when really he looked like a college student who had just rolled out of bed. Grace smiled.

 _I'm the only one who knows that he's pacing in his bare feet._

"What do I pay you for, Anthony? Is it excuses? No? Then get it done…That's not my problem…Do it. And don't forget who pulled you out of obscurity, Anthony. I can send you back to the _hole_ in which I found you." He ended the call.

"Take a break and eat something," Grace offered, "I saved a couple for you."

Shani came in just then. "Alright. I'm off. You two need anything else before I go? Last chance."

"We're fine," Oswald replied, "Just get back before things start falling apart."

"No worries, boss. Take care, Grace." Shani gave her a sly wink.

Grace tried not to look embarrassed. "Be careful, Shani. Don't let anyone hurt you."

"Relax. I'll see the pair of you in a few days. Ta." And with that, she was out the door.

Oswald locked in behind her.

"So that's that," Grace ventured, "Here we are. All alone in the woods out in the middle of…Where are we?"

He smirked. "Nowhere."

She laughed. "Oh. Perfect. Out in the middle of nowhere. I love it."

The look on his face…She suddenly couldn't tell if he was glad or miserable.

But he smiled. "If nothing else, we have plenty of time to get to know one another."

"Yeah." She smiled back. "I'd like that."

She felt a blush starting to creep up on her as they looked at each other. Here they were, alone together, somewhere nobody could find them. If she hadn't trusted Oswald, she would have been afraid. But as it was, she was just afraid of messing this up. The opportunity to lose her virginity was glaring her in the face. What if she was too awkward, or not what he liked? What if she got too nervous and couldn't do it? What if she went through with it, but then he lost interest in her?

Or would it mean that they would be together forever? Would they get married? She didn't know. It was too much to think about.

"Are you alright?"

 _Darn it! Why do I have to wear my insecurities right on my face? God, I'd be a sucky actress._

"What? Yeah, I'm fine. Um…cinnamon roll?" She pushed the box forward.

He sat down across from her, but didn't take a pastry. "Won't you tell me what you're thinking about?"

 _Um, how about no?_

"…What was your mother like?"

The question threw him off. Good.

"What?"

"I mean…do you think she would've liked me?"

He gave a slight chuckle. "To be honest, knowing Mother…she might have been skeptical of you at first."

"Really? How come?"

He shrugged, remembering. "She was…protective of me. Every time I'd go missing for a few days, she'd claim that I'd gotten tangled up with some hussy. Of course, I never was. I was fighting for my life. I just never told her that."

The memory seemed somewhat painful to him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up—"

"No, no. It's…" He sniffled and crossed his arms. "It's good to talk about the people who are gone…What about your mother? Would she have approved of me?"

She smiled. "I think so. Once she got to know you. She always wanted me to be with someone who was nice. A guy who wouldn't…um, well, someone nice. And you're the nicest person I've ever met."

Tears came into his eyes, but he blinked them away. "That's…too kind of you."

"No, I really meant it."

There was a pause.

"What would your father have thought of me?" he asked.

"Oh." Her smile faded. "…He wouldn't have cared if you were nice. You're the king of Gotham. He would've wanted you to get him out of debt or give him protection…He would've given me over for it, no problem."

He frowned, opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. "…My own father wasn't the greatest either. I just lumped him in with the rest of the bullies in my life."

"I'm surprised. I would've guessed you had a good father."

"Why?"

"Because good men usually have good fathers."

He looked puzzled. Then sad. "Grace…I'm not; I'm not a good man. I'm good to _you_ …because I do it on purpose. To get you to like me."

"You're good to Shani. And Gabe. And pretty much anyone who's loyal to you. And they think really highly of you. I can see it."

He looked down.

"And you've been more than good to me." A lump threatened to come into her throat. "I get it. You're dangerous. You kill people. You work with a lot of bad guys. But that's not who you are. You know that, don't you?"

He was fighting to keep his emotions in check at that point. "…I…I suppose I trust your judgment." He offered a smile. "But let's change the subject, shall we? No need for us both to sit here getting weepy."

She sniffled. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize." There was a pause and he stood. "Come here."

He led her to the couch and sat down, pulling her into his arms as she sat down with him. For a long moment, they just held each other quietly.

"I wish…there was some way I could show you how grateful I am," Grace said finally, "and how much you mean to me."

"You've already shown me. From day one, you've shown me." He rubbed her arm. "Just…keep being you."

 _I know what I could do…_

She bit her lip.

 _Shani explained it to me. I could do it._

He kissed the top of her head and smelled her hair.

After another few seconds, she pulled away and faced him, her heart picking up speed.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I…want to try something." She eased out of her seat and onto her knees in front of him.

His eyes widened tremendously.

She pulled at the strings of his pajama bottoms.

He took her hands in his own. "Grace…"

"I just…I want to try."

She pulled her hands gently from his and focused again on getting his pajamas out of the way. It was already apparent that he was excited. And the little noise he made when she touched him got her kind of excited, too.

The experience, well, it was something new. Grace started slow, just getting accustomed to the feeling and the taste, working up a rhythm. After a couple minutes, her jaw started to ache a bit, but his reactions made it completely worth it. He gasped, clenched and unclenched his fists, made small whimpering sounds in the back of his throat. Eventually, he leaned his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. And it was all intoxicating. It made her feel powerful in a way, too—making such a powerful man shudder with pleasure. She felt…in control. But nervous and vulnerable at the same time. It was thrilling.

"Grace," he muttered, "Grace, I'm…"

He could hardly speak, but she guessed what he was trying to say.

 _Shani explained this part, too. I have options. But I know what I want to try._

So, when the time came—as did Oswald—Grace swallowed. And inwardly, she shrugged.

 _Eh. I'm neutral about it, I guess. It's fine. Not disgusting or anything._

Outwardly, she smiled and waited for him to say something. He stared at her as he caught his breath for a few seconds, and then he suddenly knelt on the floor with her and hugged her tightly, burying his face into her neck. After another moment, he took a deep breath and pulled back, taking her face into his hands and kissing her. When she touched his face in turn, his cheeks were wet.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He touched his forehead to hers briefly before pulling back and meeting her eyes. "Do you love me?" he asked quietly, "Could you love me?" He sniffled and wiped his eyes. "Because I love you."

Her heart skipped a beat.

 _He loves me…_

"Oswald…"

Just looking at him, sitting on the floor in his pajamas, his nose reddening and his watery eyes shining with equal amounts of hope and fear, it brought tears to her own eyes.

Grace nodded. "Yeah, I do."

She barely finished saying so before he grabbed her into another hug, and she started to cry. At first, she thought he was crying, too, and maybe he was, partly. But she realized after a moment that he was actually laughing, and she smiled. This was the happiest she could remember ever being.

 _I don't have to be afraid of him leaving me now. He's telling me the truth. I know he is…We love each other._

He took her face in his hands again and wiped away her tears. "I will keep you safe. I promise you. I swear, on my mother, on everything holy, I will not let anyone take you from me."

"I'm not going anywhere." She kissed him again, and he kissed her passionately back.

Too soon, though, he ended the exchange. She tried to pull him into it again, but he resisted and stood, pulling her up with him. Without a word, he led her down the hall.

She hesitated when they got to the bedroom. "Wait…What are we doing?"

"Nothing to worry about." He ran his hands down her arms. "The timing still isn't quite right, but…you…you've done something very special for me. And I'd like to return the favor. The bedroom is…just for your comfort."

"Oh." She allowed him once more to lead, and he guided her to the bed.

 _Shani didn't really go over this part. What is he going to do?_

They sat down on the mattress together, and Oswald began kissing her again, his hands tracing her arms, and shoulders, and neck.

"Do you trust me?" he whispered.

She nodded.

He kissed her neck and began lifting her shirt. Before she could say anything, it was over her head and on the floor. He whispered again. "Say that I can touch you. Please."

 _Yes. I'll never have enough. Hold me until the end of time._

"Touch me," she breathed.

Less than a second later, a cool hand was on her left breast. She gasped. It felt good. Better than a hug or a touch on the arm. Far more intimate. It made warm tingles stir just below her stomach. She closed her eyes.

They flew open again, however, when he started guiding her onto her back. "Oswald?" She stared up at him, nervous.

"Just relax. I won't go too far. I promise. Just let me…make you feel good."

His words made her feel a bit more secure. He kissed her again, and she whimpered into the kiss as he massaged her breasts. His touch was gentle, reverent even. Gradually, his hand crept lower, down her belly, and then tested the fabric of her pajama bottoms. She gasped and pulled away from his lips when he slipped his fingers underneath the elastic waistband.

"It's okay," he breathed, "Just look at me…I'll go slowly."

He didn't break eye contact as he slid his hand further in. She gasped again when it came to rest between her legs.

"Grace?"

"Yes?" she whispered.

He looked sort of emotional again, but he wasn't tearing up this time.

"I'm your first, aren't I? I'm the first man…to touch you this way?"

She nodded.

He blinked and took a deep breath. "I'm…honored. So…so very honored." He kissed her forehead. "You won't regret it."

With that, he began to explore her in earnest, but still gently. Grace let out a soft moan as he touched her, his fingers becoming slick. And, nervous though she was, she remembered Shani's advice. So she did her best to relax, and when Oswald hit a particularly excellent spot, she told him to stay there. It took a little longer for her than it had for him, but he was delightfully persistent. And when it happened, when her climax crashed over her in waves, he only held her tighter and kept going as she writhed and arched her back. It was the most tremendous pleasure she had ever known. Nothing like when she'd touched herself in the past. This was a million times stronger. And it was that much better.

Finally, she had to push him away. She couldn't take it anymore. It felt so good, it hurt. But as she lay there, breathing hard, he suddenly pushed her bottoms all the way down.

"What are you doing?"

For a second, he only looked at her nakedness and didn't answer. But then he pushed her onto her side, facing away from him, and he pressed himself against her back, holding her close.

"Oswald?" She felt his hand between her legs again, and she shuddered. "Please. I don't know if…I can take anymore."

He kissed her neck. "Sshhh. Let me try one more thing. Alright?"

She let her overwhelmed body go limp as she continued to breathe hard. "Okay," she managed to say.

With little trouble, he located her entrance, and before she could guess what he intended, he began to slide a finger into her, slowly but steadily. Grace winced and let out something between a moan and a strangled cry. Being entered felt vaguely uncomfortable, and yet somehow perfect at the same time. It was like the cherry on top of a crazy orgasmic sundae.

With her eyes glazed over with pleasure, she didn't see how carefully he was observing her, gauging her every reaction, judging how slow, or fast, or deep he should go to make it good for her. Nevertheless, she certainly appreciated it.

When it was over, Grace tried without much success to catch her breath. She could barely feel her arms and legs, let alone form a coherent thought, but she found herself overcome with the need to be close to him now. With some effort, she rolled over and snuggled into his arms. He paused, pulled back, took his own shirt off, and pulled her close again, their bare chests pressing together intimately.

 _This is heaven._

"That was amazing," she said quietly.

She could feel him smile.

 _No wonder people go so bananas over sex. My mind is blown and we haven't even done it yet._

She kissed his shoulder.

… _I wonder how he knew what to do. How to do it so well._

Grace frowned.

 _Maybe he's been with other women before._

For some reason, that thought made her feel sort of hurt.

 _It's none of my business if he has, though. Right? I'm just feeling…jealous. I shouldn't care. I shouldn't let it spoil this._

But the hurt feeling didn't go away. She took a deep breath.

 _Relax and communicate. Relax and communicate._

"Oswald?"

"Hmm?"

"…I was just wondering. Have you…I mean, am I…your first, too? Or have you…um…"

"Oh, _no_. I mean, _yes_. You're my first. My first and only."

She propped up on her elbow. "Really?"

"Truly."

"Then…how did you know how to do it so well?"

He looked very proud of himself just then. "How did you know what to do to me earlier?"

She lowered her eyes. "Shani explained a few things to me."

"You did research." He shrugged. "So did I. And I'm…a quick study."

Grace sighed and settled back into his arms, a contented smile growing on her face. "Somehow, that makes me feel a lot better."

"…Why?"

"Because I didn't want to share you."

Oswald didn't say anything more. He only held her tighter and kissed the top of her head, lingering there to smell her hair. Lying there like that, in the quiet of the morning, they drifted to sleep together.

* * *

Grace was the first to wake up that mid-afternoon, but for a few minutes, she kept her eyes closed, enjoying what her other senses were telling her. Oswald still held her, his arms encircling her loosely, but possessively. His breath was steady, his chest rising and falling near her face. The events of the morning resurfaced in her mind and sent tingles all over her body, reminding her how very naked she was.

She liked it.

As she mentally reviewed the things they had said and done to each other, something caught Grace's attention.

 _My first and only._

That was what he had said, but she hadn't noticed the implications of those four words until just now.

 _For the rest of his life. That's what those words mean. He'll stay faithful to me for the rest of his life._

She opened her eyes.

Oswald looked peaceful in his sleep. His sharp, hungry eyes were closed; his expressive mouth was still; his face was in a state of relaxation that she had never seen on him before.

 _Did he mean it? Did he know what he was saying? Does he really want me as his one and only love?_

She smiled. Oswald wasn't one to speak idly. He lied sometimes, but why would he lie to her? About this? Unless he was playing some really elaborate trick…which he was capable of.

 _It doesn't feel like a trick. He trusts me. He has to. He wouldn't put himself in this position otherwise._

Grace propped herself up on her elbow slowly, careful not to disturb him, and observed his sleeping form. His meticulously styled hair got messy when he slept, and she thought it was adorable.

 _How can he have such jet black hair, and yet such pale skin and blue eyes?_

She ran a soft hand over his head.

 _The contrast makes him look so…sharp. But that works. Sharp is a good word for him._

Her eyes drifted over his upper body.

 _Wait, what's that?_

On the back of his right shoulder, there was a somewhat messy scar about the size of a quarter. As lightly as she could, she brushed her fingertips over it curiously.

"That was a sniper rifle," he said.

She jerked her hand back, startled. "Oh gosh. Sorry, I didn't know you were awake."

He opened his eyes and smiled. "You can touch it. It's fine. It stopped hurting a long time ago."

Hesitantly, she returned her hand to the scar, still being gentle.

"…What happened?"

His smile faded, but he remained calm, speaking softly. "It was a failed attempt to avenge my mother. I was in sort of a stand-off with Jim Gordon—he was protecting the man I was trying to kill. Anyway, there was a sniper on the roof. But I was able to steal a car and get out before they took another shot."

"Why was Jim Gordon protecting the man who…?"

Oswald raised his eyebrows and said what she wouldn't say. "Who killed my mother? He was just doing his job." He shrugged slightly. "Cops. But ultimately he was more of a help than a hindrance. We killed Galavan together."

"Wow…I never would've guessed."

He chuckled. "I know, right? Mr. No-Nonsense. But he will give in to his darker instincts with the right encouragement. It's proven useful."

She looked again at the scar. "…What does it feel like to get shot?"

"…It burns," he replied, "It's like having hot metal under your skin. Something like that."

She ran her fingers over the old wound.

 _He's so brave._

"But I've only been shot twice," he continued, "And considering how many times I've been shot _at_ , that's really not bad."

She breathed out a laugh in spite of herself and planted a gentle kiss on the raised skin on his shoulder.

"Well, please try not to get shot again."

"Oh, believe me, I do try my best."

"Better still, don't get shot _at_ anymore."

"Ah, well. I do what I can, of course, but…c'est la vie.

"Hey, I've heard that before. C'est la vie. But what does it mean?"

"Oh, it's French. It means 'that's life.'"

"You speak French?"

 _Is there seriously anything he can't do?_

"Well, not _fluently_ , but…yes."

"Where did you learn?"

"I was blessed with a good education. And given my choices, I thought it was a more…appealing language than German."

"Say something else in French."

He laughed. "Okay, uh…Vous êtes très jolie, et élégant, et amusante. Et…et je t'aime." He took her hand as he spoke.

 _He takes my breath away._

"That was beautiful. What did you say?"

"I said that you are lovely, and elegant, and funny. And that I love you."

She blinked away the urge to cry. "That's…that's really nice…Thank you."

He stroked her arm. Then a glint of mischief came into his eyes. "Laisse-moi embrasser vos seins, s'il vous plait."

"What did you say that time?"

"I said…" He dragged two fingertips down her sternum. "…let me kiss your, uh…" He glanced down at her breasts, which were still uncovered, and a little color came into his cheeks. "…please," he finished.

"Oh." She blushed a bit herself.

For a couple seconds, she looked into his eyes and didn't move. She saw that the strain was there again, that he was fighting to control his lust in order to go slowly with her. But overshadowing that was the glow of passion and vulnerability in his gaze, the look of a man who only wanted her approval. She found it heartwarming.

With a smile, she settled down on her back, leaving her breasts exposed, inviting him.

* * *

The next couple of days almost seemed like a mini-honeymoon. They slept together, took showers together, and spent all the time they wanted exploring each other's bodies. Sure, Oswald had to make the occasional phone call, but for the most part, they had a lot of free time on their hands.

But it wasn't all physical, and Grace enjoyed the talking as much as the touching. He had so many exciting stories to tell. He had taken basically every form of punishment the crime families could dish out. People from all sides had wanted him dead, and some had even come close. But he had slipped from their grasp every time. He had healed, and learned, and come back stronger. And now he was on top, and fighting to stay on top.

Grace felt confident that he would.

"But tell me more about _you_ ," he said, sipping a cup of hot tea, "I'm talking too much about myself."

They were up early that morning, and they sat in the living room by the fire.

"Oh, no, I love hearing all about you. You're life has been so…action-packed. Mine's really boring."

"Nothing about you could be boring. Tell me something. I want to know about the girl I'm…with."

"Okay, um…" She tapped her fingers on her teacup, thinking. "…Well, my mom loved to read, which is why I loved to read as a kid." A smile from him encouraged her, and she continued. "I used to sneak books into the bathroom at school…But when Mom died, Dad didn't let me go to school for much longer. So before I had to leave, I stole a bunch of books. I remember my backpack was so heavy I almost couldn't carry it. I hid them all under my bed. There were eleven of them."

"That's very interesting. Actually, it's something we have in common. Reading was certainly my favorite thing to do in school. It…provided a good mental escape."

There was a pause. Grace listened to the crackle of the fire. "So the bullying was…bad?"

He hesitated, then nodded. "Worse than bad…But I was cleverer than them. I made something of myself."

 _I shouldn't have asked._

She kissed his cheek. He gave half a smile.

"I checked up on some of my old bullies recently. Things really didn't turn out so well for most of them. Drugs, bankruptcy, failed marriages." He chuckled. "When it came to revenge, they beat me to the punch. They were all too stupid to keep what they had."

"Oh the irony," she said, trying for a smile.

He took her hand. "I won't make their mistakes."

"…I know you won't." She gave his hand a squeeze. "You're way too smart."

He paused again, and then set his teacup aside. Gently, he removed Grace's teacup from her hands and set it aside as well. Then he kissed her, tenderly at first. But as she kissed him back, it quickly escalated. A minute later, she was tugging at his shirt, and he pulled it off. The kissing intensified and he moved to her neck.

"Let's go to the bedroom," she panted.

She expected him to hurry them to the bed, but instead he pulled away from her, and when she tried to press against him again, he stopped her.

"Just…just give me a minute. I'm…I need to get back in control."

"Oswald…"

"We'll still have our fun…I promise…But I need to be in control."

"…Oswald?"

He was trying to slow his breathing. "What?"

She hesitated, then stood. "Wait here just a second."

As she fast-walked down the hall towards the bedroom, her heart started to beat faster.

 _Am I really ready? Am I really doing this?_

Quickly, she rummaged through her bag. Finding what she was looking for, she returned to him, going more slowly now, the items hidden behind her back. She stood before him.

He furrowed his brow and looked at her curiously. "What is it?"

"…I know keeping control has been hard on you…And I didn't say anything, because I didn't think I was ready." She took a deep breath. "But you've promised that you would never hurt me…or leave me…and I believe you. So, um, actually, I have these."

From behind her back, she produced three condoms.

Oswald's eyes had never been wider.


	13. Chapter 13

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 13**

 _Oh my God._

Oswald could barely take in a breath. All this time, he had lamented his lack of foresight at not having brought protection, and now, out of the blue, Grace had that very thing.

"Shani gave them to me," she explained, "just in case I wanted to 'go for it' while we were out here."

 _Oh my God._

"Grace…" He cleared his throat, clinging to his last scrap of self-restraint. "Are-Are you sure?"

 _Please be sure. My heart can't take this._

She looked at him very shyly and smiled. "I think I am."

He let out a breath and stood up. With one limping step, he was directly in front of her, looking into her eyes. Then he was kissing her, and with all the tenderness and gentility he could muster.

Everything about this had to be gentle and good for her, otherwise she might not want to do it again.

He pulled back and held her face in his hands. "Anything you want, Grace. _Anything_. You need only ask." He kissed her again. "I promise you will not regret this…I'll take care of you."

Her green eyes were looking up at him with such trust, it melted his heart. She nodded. He needed no further encouragement and began kissing her again, finally allowing himself to get lost in it.

 _Finally. At long last. My virginity ends today._

He began sucking on her neck, shuddering a bit as she gently ran her nails down his back.

Tap tap tap.

Oswald's eyes flew open and went instantly to the window. Selina Kyle smirked and waved at him. His mouth opened in shock. Grace turned and gaped. Selina crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. Oswald angrily reached for his robe and slipped it on, glaring at her as he tied it at his waist. With a jerk of his head, he signaled for her to go to the door.

Grace straightened herself as he unlocked the entrance. He tried, but failed, to be calm when he opened it to the unwelcome teenager.

"Selina…what the _hell_ are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you, too, boss man." She walked in as if she owned the place.

 _I thought I was above killing little girls. I've changed my mind._

"How did you even find me here?"

She shrugged. "I found a map. Listen, everything's going to hell back in Gotham. Guys are busting in everywhere with fake warrants and _a lot_ of guns. Shani sent me before they nabbed her."

Grace gasped.

Oswald frowned, feeling an initial twinge of grief. "Is she dead?"

Cat shook her head slowly, looking grim. They both knew what that meant.

 _They'll torture her for information…Damn. She has a lot of information._

"But I know where they took her. I followed them before I came here. Maybe you can get her out."

Oswald sighed, thinking. With sadness in his eyes, he turned to Grace. "Get dressed."

* * *

"I'm Grace," she said, offering Selina her hand.

Oswald kept an eye on them as he put the last bags in the trunk.

"Cat." She shook Grace's hand.

"Not Selina?"

"I prefer Cat."

"Oh…well okay." Grace shrugged and smiled.

"So I guess you're the boss's main squeeze."

Oswald slammed the trunk shut. "Time to go."

As he limped to the driver's seat, Cat went for the passenger side door.

"No no," he reprimanded, "You sit in the back."

Cat raised her eyebrows. "But I'm your second in command right now."

He raised his eyebrows in return. "Would you prefer the trunk?"

She rolled her eyes and opened the back seat door. "Whatever."

Grace slid quietly into the passenger seat and Oswald started the engine.

The first several minutes of the trip were filled with brooding silence. Normally, he might have attempted some kind of banter, just to break the monotony, but he was in a bad mood.

 _There's always a problem. Without fail, there has to be a crisis the moment I'm about to get into bed with a beautiful woman._

Grace was the first to speak. "Hey Cat, now that I'm thinking about it, how did you get all the way out here?"

 _Good question._

"I hitchhiked."

 _I assumed as much._

"Isn't that awfully dangerous?"

Oswald chimed in. "Actually, I wasn't going to say anything, but yes, it is dangerous." He glanced back at Selina somewhat condescendingly. "I do hope you were careful."

"It was no big deal," said Cat, "I know how to handle myself."

"I remember the last time I hitchhiked," he reminisced, "I was picked up by two rich idiots who liked to laugh at other people's expense."

"What happened?" Grace loved these stories.

Cat leaned forward against the back of Grace's seat, listening.

"I was wet from the river; my ear was still ringing from a gun going off next to my head. And there I was, hobbling down the road with a broken leg. So, in all fairness, I was having an exceptionally bad day. But had they been kind to me, they might still be alive. I'm…sure some kind of lesson can be taken from that."

Cat chuckled. "Yeah. Don't pick up psycho murderers."

Oswald rolled his eyes. "And how do you tell if someone's a psycho murderer?"

"You can just tell. Especially if they have the crazy eyes."

"Well do I have 'the crazy eyes'?" He was clearly skeptical.

She paused and looked at his eyes in the rear view mirror. "Not right now. But you totally do sometimes. Like when you're killing somebody."

He shrugged. "Everybody looks crazy when they're killing somebody."

"I don't."

"And when was the last time you killed anyone, Selina?"

"I pushed a guy out of a window one time, for your information…Oh, I also scratched a man's eyes out once."

"Ew," Grace commented quietly.

"Hey, when someone's trying to grab you, going for the eyes works."

"She's right." Oswald glanced at Grace. "You should try to remember that."

"…Okay, but can we talk about something less gory now?"

There was a brief silence.

"Bruce Wayne invited me to a charity ball," Cat offered.

* * *

He parked the car a short distance from the house to which Cat had directed him. It was a small, sparsely populated residential area just outside of Gotham.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" he asked.

Selina rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Tell me about the security."

"Not much to it. The guy likes to keep it low-key. He's one of those quirky professionals. You know."

"Hmm."

 _If I can take the torturer alive, he could be useful._

"When I was here, they took Shani inside and then left. So it could just be the one guy. Maybe."

"Shouldn't we wait for backup or something?" Grace asked.

Oswald shook his head. "I would normally, of course, but my resources are a bit strained at the moment. Do you have your gun?"

Grace nodded and pulled a small pistol out of her purse.

"Okay. Keep the car running and the doors locked. If—"

"Wait, no. I'm coming with you."

He smiled. "Um, how shall I put this…Like hell you are."

"I can help. I'm a pretty good shot now."

"Grace, if I'm worried about you, I'm not going to be able to concentrate. So please—I'm asking nicely—stay in the car."

"The fourteen year old gets to go and not me?"

"I'm sixteen," Cat interjected.

"Enough of this." He reached down and pulled the lever to open the trunk. "You're staying and that's final. Pick a gun, Selina." He motioned towards the back.

Cat got out of the car to look through the trunk.

"Grace…" He stroked her cheek. "Please just…stay. For both our sakes."

She sighed. "Fine."

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Thank you." He then got out of the car and limped to the trunk, pulling out a shotgun.

The door to the house was sealed and reinforced; there was no getting in that way. But the windows broke without a problem. Oswald shook his head in disapproval.

 _Amateurs._

Silently, guns at the ready, they crept downstairs towards the basement, which was the most likely workspace for a torturer. The door to the basement required a passcode to open.

"Can you crack it?" Selina asked.

"Yes," he replied, cocking his gun.

The shotgun blast obliterated the passcode machine, as well as a chunk of the heavy wooden door.

Wood. Another rookie mistake.

 _This guy is second rate, at best._

Selina shoved the door open. Inside was a makeshift dungeon, and in the center of the room lay Shani, strapped to a table. Oswald looked at her and sighed sympathetically.

 _I have to get her out of here._

Suddenly, pain smashed into his body and knocked him to the floor. Oswald was surprised of course, but not unfamiliar with it. He knew what getting hit with a chair felt like.

 _Does this mean you have no gun, Mr. Torturer?_

Selina had quick reflexes and dodged when the man tried to disarm her. She held up her gun defensively. "Make one more move and you're dead," she threatened.

"Take it easy, little girl. You're trespassing. I have the right to defend my home." He produced a small gun and pointed it at Oswald. "So put your gun down, or I shoot him."

"Do you know who he is? That's the king of Gotham. He's worth way more alive than dead."

 _Appreciated, Selina._

"Not anymore. I work for the true rulers of Gotham."

"And just for argument's sake," Oswald chimed in, still on the floor, "who are these 'true rulers'?"

"That makes no difference to you. There's a price on your head."

"Well then tell _me_ who they are," Cat suggested, "I wanna be on the right side of this little regime change."

"Didn't I tell you to put your gun down, little—"

A shotgun shell tore through the man's head, and he fell into a gory puddle of his own brains. Cat looked at Oswald. He met her gaze.

"So look at me now," he said, "Are my eyes crazy?"

She relaxed her shoulders and scoffed good-naturedly.

A groan from Shani got their heads back in the game. Oswald scrambled to his feet. "Cover the door," he ordered, and then limped to his wounded butler.

One side of Shani's face was covered in dried blood. From what he could see, the cheek had been cut open. Looking over the rest of her, he could tell that her right arm had been broken, and there was a long nail sticking out of her right foot.

"Oh Shani…" He hated this. She had always taken such good care of him. He stroked the top of her head and looked her up and down again. "This is such sloppy work," he lamented, his voice nearly breaking.

"Sir?" She was weak, but coming into consciousness.

"I'm here, Shani. We're getting you out. You're going to be okay."

"They're looking…for Victor," she muttered, "He made a breakthrough…with the guy who…wouldn't talk. He knows something."

Oswald smiled. Shani never failed to impress.

 _She got information out of her interrogator._

"I'll take it from here. Thank you. You've served me well. It's going to be okay." He began to undo her restraints.

Getting her to the car was slow going. Unfortunately, neither Oswald nor Selina could carry her, so they had to support her as she hopped along. Grace insisted on sitting in the back seat with Shani, so Selina took the chance to sit up front. Once in the car, he drove straight to the hospital, despite Cat's protests. Yes, it was dangerous, but Shani desperately needed it, and there was a doctor there who owed him a big favor. It was the best he could do for now.

* * *

When Shani was taken care of, he drove downtown and parked the car inconspicuously behind a warehouse.

"So what's the plan? Are we just gonna live in your car until this blows over?" Selina played the smart-ass quite consistently.

"Of course not," he replied, "We have to find Victor Zsasz."

"It's getting late," said Grace, "Do you know where he lives?"

"Yes, but he wouldn't be there. People are looking for him."

"Can you call him?"

He shook his head. "I don't know if the lines are secure anymore. Their torturer was an imbecile, but whatever power is orchestrating all this…it's something big. To grab someone from my inner circle like they did would take millions of dollars in resources."

"So, again, what's the plan?" Selina asked.

"I have to make an educated guess concerning Victor's whereabouts."

In the dead of night, they drove within a mile of his underground hiding place and then ditched the car, taking with them only weapons and bare essentials. Oswald tapped loudly on the steel door with the handle of his umbrella. He could see that the hidden cameras were still intact above the entrance, but he could only hope that it was Victor inside watching the monitors. All of them had guns at the ready, though, just in case.

Oswald's relief could not be described when it was Gabe who slid open the door.

"Not dead yet, old friend?" he asked cheerfully.

"Not yet," the larger man replied, gesturing for them to come in. He put a hand on Oswald's shoulder. "Shani?"

His eyes saddened. "She's alive. Don't worry."

Gabe only nodded and slid the door shut again.

Further inside the dirty cement shelter was a cluster of monitors with a chair in front of them. And in the chair sat a young bald man in a black suit.

"Hello, boss," he said with a grin.

"Victor. What do you have for me?"

He stood. "Right this way."

He led them to a small chain-link enclosure. Inside it was a fingerless man sitting on the floor. Victor rattled the cage and the man jumped.

"Stand up!" He turned to Oswald. "You're gonna want to hear this. Tell Mr. Cobblepot what you told me about your boss. Be a good boy."

The man stood and put his hands behind his back. Oswald noticed a V-shaped cut on the side of the man's forehead. He spoke in a zombie-like monotone. "My name is Brian Vaden and I work for Wayne Enterprises."

"Again!" Victor demanded.

Brian started to tremble. "My name is Brian Vaden and I work for Wayne Enterprises!"

There was a pause as the words echoed.

"Wayne Enterprises…" Oswald repeated to himself. He shook his head, thinking.

 _This is so much worse than I originally thought._

After a moment, he turned to Grace and smiled, clasping his hands together. "Dearest. How would you like to go to a ball?"

* * *

It took a couple days of careful dealing, but he was able to anonymously retake his old nightclub, _Oswald's_ , without much hostility. He had converted part of the second floor into a modest living space long ago, as it had once been his main headquarters. Now it was a safe haven for himself, Grace, and Shani, who had been released from the hospital, but remained mostly in bed.

Grace took up the role of nurse for the British woman, and Oswald was glad for it. Taking care of Shani gave her something to focus on. While he desperately wished that he could pick up where he had left off with her, getting Grace into bed was once again demoted to second on the priority list. There was so much that had to go right during the upcoming ball, and it was all on his shoulders to make it that way. If he failed, it would take only days for his empire to crumble.

The noise of the shower interrupted his thoughts as he entered the room he shared with Grace. He smiled to himself.

 _Hell, I could use a fifteen minute break._

Loosening his tie, he approached the bathroom door. He stopped just outside, however, when he heard Grace's voice.

Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?

In the lane, snow is glistening

A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight

Walking in a winter wonderland

 _She's singing._

He grinned and leaned closer to the door.

Gone away is the bluebird

Here to stay is the new bird

He's singing a song as we go along

Walking in a winter wonderland

 _It's beautiful. She could do this professionally._

In the meadow we could build a snowman

And pretend that he is Parson Brown

He'll say 'Are you married?' We'll say 'no man'

But you can do the job while you're in town

 _…I really should marry her._

 _I want to. It's just_ so _dangerous._

Later on we'll conspire

As we dream by the fire

To face unafraid the plans that we've laid

Walking in a winter wonderland

He took a deep breath.

 _This is love. And it's almost Christmas. I'm not going to cheapen this. Oswald Cobblepot does not do anything halfway._

When Grace came downstairs, she was met with the sound of the piano. Oswald sat onstage, playing. Just for fun, he played _Winter_ _Wonderland_.

She grinned and approached the stage. "Did you hear me, or is this some crazy coincidence?"

His eyes glinted with mischief, but he calmly continued playing. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She smirked. "You heard me."

"If you're referring to the angel voice coming from the shower…" He shook his head. "I still don't know what you're talking about."

She stepped up onto the stage and sat next to him on the piano bench. "You're just messing with me."

He nudged her with his shoulder. "Sing again."

"Um, no."

"Please?"

"…Why?"

"Because you sing like a sweet little bird, and I want to hear it."

She sighed. "Oswald…I don't really sing. Just in the shower. On rare occasions."

He leaned over and kissed her cheek, speaking in her ear. "Sing for me." He started the song over.

For the first few bars, she would only hum, but after a moment, she let herself relax and sing out. It was some of the best fun Oswald would remember having, playing accompaniment to Grace's singing, and it was something they would enjoy many times over the course of their tumultuous life together.

* * *

 **Readers :)**

 **I can't tell you how much I appreciate your kindness and your interest in my story. It was a joy to write and it's a joy to share it with you now.**

 **Phoebe, I love Jane Austen and I am honored and humbled that my writing would remind you of her. The study of English Literature was my favorite part of college; it's nice to have it in common with someone like yourself. I had never thought of doing a spin-off with Victor and Shani, but that's a really interesting idea, and if you have any more thoughts on it, you're welcome to share them with me. I hope, as my story goes on, it continues to please you.**

 **Cow-Lover2214, you've been my most consistent reviewer, and I want you to know how much I appreciate that. Thank you.**

 **To all of my other reviewers, to those who have favorited and followed, and to all of you who are simply just enjoying my work, you have a very special place in my heart.**

 **All my love.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 14**

"I didn't mean to fall asleep. I'm sorry," she pleaded.

"Don't give me that. You were shirking, and right when I'm about to have guests!"

He flicked her forehead. It stung.

He sighed in exasperation. "Just keep the beer coming when they get here. Otherwise, be invisible. And keep your mouth shut."

Fifteen year old Grace flinched when her father raised a hand, but the blow didn't come this time.

"Yes, Dad. I know. I'll be a good hostess."

"Don't embarrass me or you'll be out on your ass. And good luck living this well on your own."

She nodded, staring down at the dirty carpet.

"Though I guess you could turn to hooking." He laughed. "You're almost old enough now."

Tears pricked at her eyes. He always had to go there. It made her feel lower than dirt.

"I'm not that kind of girl," she muttered.

Smack. Her head spun a little.

"Sure you are. You just don't know it yet. And don't talk back to me. Now hurry up and finish pressing my shirt. I need that done _before_ they get here."

Grace nodded and turned back to the laundry. She listened to his footsteps as they crossed the kitchen, then the door opened and closed. He had gone out. That's when she buckled, tears finally coming in full force.

"Mom," she wept, "Mommy, I miss you…I need you."

 _She's dead. She's dead. She's dead._

Those words still echoed in her head as she bolted upright in bed, crying and gasping for breath.

"Grace…" muttered a sleepy voice.

A comforting hand reached out for her.

"Grace." As Oswald woke up fully, he sat up, concerned. Suddenly, an arm was around her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"I…I'm not… _God_ , I feel so worthless sometimes." Sobs wracked her body.

She could feel him shaking his head. "No. No, it was just a dream. Look at me…Look at me, Grace." He met her eyes in the dim light. "You are worth more than you know to me. You don't just warm my bed at night; do you understand? You're…Grace, you're the light of my life. I love you." He took her face in his hands, making her maintain eye contact. "I love that you wear short sleeves in winter because you're so warm-natured. I love that you only like lemon-flavored suckers. I love that you sleep on your back. Every little thing about you makes you special to me." He wiped the tears from her cheeks. "You are _not_ worthless. And you never have been. Please, I need you to believe me."

Grace took in a ragged breath and nodded, throwing her arms around him and sobbing once more. "I love you so much," she said in his ear, "Oswald…you're…everything to me."

"Sshhhshh," he comforted, stroking her hair.

After a moment, he laid on his back, guiding her along with him so that her head rested on his chest. Soothingly, he started to speak, gently rubbing her arm.

"I had a pigeon coop on the roof once. The roof of our apartment building. I spent every spare moment up there. I would sit very still, and put out breadcrumbs, and I would talk to them. About my day, or my ambitions, anything at all. I could get them to eat out of my hand or sit on my shoulder…They were my friends. I even named them. There was…Cooper, Octavian, Mimsy, Roland…Roger and Caterina; they had a nest together…Connie…"

Grace listened, not even realizing that she was falling back asleep.

She dreamed of pigeons. And a black-headed, sharp-nosed boy who gave them a home.


	15. Chapter 15

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 15**

Oswald fastened his cuff links and looked himself over in the mirror. He felt his suit could really use just a hint of color—a dark blue ascot perhaps—but no, tonight wasn't the night to be flamboyant. He needed to look like he belonged.

 _I'm just as rich as the people who are going. I need to appear just as respectable._

He laughed to himself.

 _Respectable being a rather loose term._

Taking up his finest umbrella, he was ready to go.

Grace was getting ready in Shani's room. He tapped on the door. "Grace?"

"Come in," called her voice.

He smiled when he entered the room. Grace wore a sexy, but respectable, floor-length white dress. She turned around once for him, and his body reacted a bit to the deliciously low-cut back. She wore her golden hair loose and wavy over her shoulders.

"You're breathtaking," he said.

Shani was sitting on the edge of the bed, her arm in a cast. Her eyes were smiling, but her face remained neutral, which was understandable given the wound on her cheek.

Grace smiled shyly. "Thank you." She then turned to Shani. "Are you sure you don't need anything before we go?"

The butler smirked slightly and waved her off.

"Call Gabe if you need anything, Shani," Oswald insisted, "even if it's just a glass of water. Alright?"

She rolled her eyes and waved them off again. He smiled.

 _She's in good spirits. She's going to be okay._

He would have felt painfully guilty otherwise. A loyal staff was worth more than all the money in Gotham, and Shani was one of the best. Her security was his responsibility.

He offered his arm to Grace. "Shall we?"

* * *

The ball was held at Wayne Manor. Security was tight, but it didn't take much more than a substantial donation and a false name to get in. And Grace's presence with him turned out to be highly beneficial. She had this wholesome aura about her which partially counteracted his tendency to make people nervous. After all, he was a rather notorious man, and several people recognized him. But he was all smiles and entirely on his best behavior, so fortunately no one alerted security.

They might also have been afraid to cross him. That was certainly possible.

Bruce Wayne stood on a makeshift stage and addressed the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to welcome you to my home. And even more pleased to see such a turnout…for such a good cause. There are so many children in Gotham, like myself, who have lost their parents. But while I have had a fortune to fall back on, they have been left with nothing. The future of Gotham…is in the hands of its young people. I thank you for investing in Gotham's future. Please enjoy your evening."

The crowd applauded enthusiastically.

Oswald was clapping when Bruce spotted him. The boy hesitated as he descended the stage, but put on a brave face and approached them, his faithful butler at his side.

"A stirring oration, young Mr. Wayne," said Oswald, "I have to say, and I think I can speak for my date and myself-" Grace smiled and nodded. "-it was truly inspired."

Bruce only frowned slightly.

"But where are my manners? We haven't been introduced. I'm—"

"I know who you are. What are you doing here?"

 _Icy little man, aren't you?_

Oswald sighed and looked at the boy with all the sincerity he could muster. "Despite what you obviously _think_ you know about me, Mr. Wayne, I am not without a sense of altruism. What you said up there, I quite agree with it."

"How did you even get in?" asked the butler.

Something about the cockney accent made Oswald want to burst out laughing, but he held it together.

"A sizable donation, my friend. That's what this is all about, after all. Expect no mischief out of me tonight. I'm simply here for the cause."

"You'll forgive me for being skeptical, Mr. Cobblepot. Your reputation precedes you. I'm afraid I don't believe that you have no ulterior motive."

"In all honesty…" He winced. "I _was_ hoping to speak with you. As someone coming from the other side of the tracks, so to speak—"

"The other side of the _law_ , you mean."

Oswald shrugged. "What have you. I wanted to let you know that I'm afraid your control is slipping. Over your company, I mean."

"What are you talking about?"

"There are people from Wayne Enterprises trying to kill me, to be frank. I've had to flee my home. My staff have been kidnapped and tortured." He shook his head. "I've been pushed underground, Mr. Wayne. The only reason I felt safe coming here tonight was because of your little girlfriend."

"…Selina?"

The butler rolled his eyes.

"She assured me that you weren't party to this… _campaign_ against me."

"Well no. I mean…" He was clearly confused. "What makes you think Wayne Enterprises is behind this?"

"Because one of the assailants told me himself. Needless to say, it was a disturbing thing to learn. After all, Wayne Enterprises practically owns all of Gotham."

Bruce sighed, unsure. "I remain skeptical, Mr. Cobblepot. I'm afraid I can't simply take you at your word."

"I understand. You need proof, of course. The assailant who talked, his name was Brian Vaden. Look him up. I assume you keep a record of your employees." He produced a small card and handed it to the boy. "You can reach me at this number. Believe me, I am willing to help you figure this out in any way that I can."

"Master Bruce, might I suggest that you have this riff-raff removed and carry on with your duties as tonight's host?"

 _Don't irk me, Oliver Twist._

"Master Bruce _is_ carrying out his duties as host, _sir_. His high-paying guests deserve his attention. Let me assure you, I'm one of the highest. After all…" His charming smile came back as his gaze returned to the boy. "I do believe in the cause."

There was a rather intense pause.

"I'm Grace, by the way." She jumped in with a friendly smile and offered her hand to Bruce. "Grace Ackerman. Your house is _beautiful_."

Bruce shook her hand, somewhat taken aback. "Thank you. That's…kind of you to say."

Oswald smiled warmly at her.

 _Bless you, Grace. You're so naturally good at this._

Cat chose that moment to saunter over, coming to Bruce's side with a shrimp kabob in her hand. She almost looked like a normal teenage socialite in the knee-length dress she was wearing.

"What's up?" she greeted nonchalantly, "Hey, Mr. C." She nodded to them. "Grace."

"So you do know them?" asked Bruce.

"Oh yeah, from way back. Well, not Grace. She's new."

Bruce seemed a bit more frustrated now. "I have no choice but to investigate your accusations, Mr. Cobblepot. But I won't guarantee that I'll contact you."

"I trust that you'll take care of your own interests, Mr. Wayne. And if I'm still alive within the next few days, I'll eagerly await your call…But I won't take up any more of your time tonight. The seafood bar looks _quite_ tempting. Grace, shall we?"

She took his arm. With a final nod, they left the little billionaire to his thoughts.

The seafood bar really was extensive. There were prawns nearly the size of Grace's forearm, if that was any indication. It was a table full of heaven for Oswald, and, though he knew it was tacky, he wrapped a lobster claw in a napkin and hid it in his breast pocket. Just for something to nibble on later.

He was about halfway through a well-seasoned crab cake when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned, then smiled and put his plate aside.

"Jim. What a pleasant surprise. And Lee, it's been so long. How are you?"

"Fine," Jim answered, "What are you doing here?"

Oswald gave him a patronizing look. "Fine, fine. You're always fine. I know how _you_ are, Jim. I was asking your beautiful wife." He smiled at Lee again.

She gave her own patronizing look. "Fine."

Oswald chuckled. "He's rubbing off on you, I see. Oh, allow me to introduce my own love interest. This is Grace. Jim, you've met once before."

Grace shook both their hands in turn.

"Not your personal assistant anymore, I guess?" Jim commented.

"Well, not technically," Grace answered, blushing slightly, "but I still like to help."

"It seems we share a weakness, Jim, falling for women in the workplace."

Jim gave a slight nod, but just looked uncomfortable at this point. Social pleasantries were not his strong suit.

Lee was more engaged, however. "What did you do before you worked for Oswald, Grace?"

"Oh…" Grace looked down. She didn't know how to answer that question. Not simply. "Not much of anything. Just like, housecleaning and stuff."

Lee smiled kindly. "Well, there's no shame in that. I was a waitress for years before I went to medical school." She shrugged. "You gotta start somewhere."

"Yeah." Grace's smile returned.

Oswald shot Lee a thankful look, and after a pause, he changed the subject. "And how's the little one? It's Sarah, isn't it? What is she, almost two now?"

"She's two, yes," said Jim shortly.

"With the babysitter tonight, I presume?"

"Yeah, but we probably won't stay out too late," said Lee, "She doesn't like it when we're gone."

Jim looked at her like she had lost her mind. She was actually starting to small-talk with the Penguin.

"I understand. The separation would be difficult; I can imagine. Still, this is a lovely way to spend a night out. I know I'm enjoying it."

"Penguin, what are you doing here? Really?" Jim insisted.

Oswald gave him a hard look. "I believe a rogue branch of Wayne Enterprises is trying to kill me and take over my empire. _If you must know, Jim_. I came here to bring it to Bruce Wayne's attention."

"And did you?"

"Well of course. And we'll see where it goes." He turned to Lee again and smiled. "You know, I haven't had the pleasure of meeting Sarah. Jim won't even show me the picture in his wallet."

"And it's going to stay that way," Jim interjected.

"I'm…gonna have to agree with Jim on this one," said Lee.

Oswald sighed. " _Hurtful_ , but understandable, I suppose. First time parents are often overprotective, so I hear." He shrugged. "Fine. But Jim, you may want to look into this Wayne situation as well. After all, if I go down, Gotham's underworld plunges into chaos. And we both know what that's like." He leaned forward. "A _bloodbath_." He paused and smiled again. "You two have a nice evening."

With that, he led Grace away. "I think it's time to go," he told her.

They passed the seafood bar on their way out and Oswald grabbed one more prawn as they went.

* * *

The car ride home was quiet, but pleasant. Until Oswald realized that they weren't heading back to the club. For an instant, fear took hold.

 _Has Gabe betrayed me, too?_

 _…Am I going to have to kill Gabe?_

"Gabe. Just where do you think you're taking us?"

Grace took his hand. "Keep going, Gabe. Don't say anything."

Oswald gave her a questioning look.

"I…have a surprise for you. A Christmas present."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of his old apartment building. At this point, he didn't know what to think.

 _What Christmas present could possibly be here?_

 _...Surely_ Grace _isn't planning to kill me._

"Do you mind going up all the stairs?" she asked, "I don't think I trust the elevator in this building."

"You're wise not to. I don't mind stairs. But can you please tell me what we're doing?"

"Just trust me."

The stairs presented a certain level of discomfort, but Oswald managed. Grace led him all the way up to the roof. She then covered his eyes with her hands as they stepped into the twilight air.

"Ta da!" She released his eyes.

He saw it immediately. It was at the center of the roof. A pigeon coop. And there were a few birds already taking to it. He was rendered speechless.

"It was a really sweet story, about the pigeon coop you had when you were younger. I thought you might like another one."

A hard lump formed in Oswald's throat. "How did you do this?"

"Gabe took care of it for me. He knew some guys who could do it."

He maintained control of his breathing for the most part, but a couple of errant tears streamed down his cheeks.

"Do you…like it?"

He exhaled an emotional laugh. "This…this is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

"Oh, Oswald…" She stepped closer and put a hand on his cheek. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

He wiped his eyes. "Tears of joy, I assure you…"

 _She loves me. I don't doubt that now. I've never felt so loved._

"Grace…" He took her hands in his own. "I have something for you also. I…didn't expect this to happen tonight…but I do have it with me and…now seems like the right time."

His bad leg made it a little awkward, but he got down on one knee. He then produced a small gold ring from his pocket.

Oswald took a deep breath, biting back the lump that remained in his throat. "Grace…" He closed his eyes for a second and then started over. "Grace Kelly Ackerman…" Another errant tear. "Will you marry me?"

She began to cry, nodding vigorously, unable to get the words out. She dropped to her knees and reached out for him. "Yes," she said, embracing his passionately, "Yes, yes."

He grinned through his own tears as he held her.

 _I can't believe this is happening to me. I can't believe how happy I am._

"Don't cry," he said finally.

She sniffled and smiled. "Happy tears."

 _This is so much more than I'd hoped._

He slipped the ring onto her finger. "I know it's a bit plain. I thought we might go more traditional…But I can get you a diamond. You can have whatever you want…"

"Oswald, I love it." She kissed him.

 _This is so much more than I deserve._

He kissed her hand. "I love you. And I promise, I will give you everything that I can."

"I just want you."

 _I'm going to have a wife._

* * *

Several days later, Oswald received a highly intriguing phone call.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, Mr. Cobblepot. It's Alfred Pennyworth, young Master Wayne's guardian."

"Alfred." He smiled. "I would've known your voice anywhere. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"I'm outside your little hideaway and I'd appreciate it if you'd open up the bloody door. It's freezing out here."

"Oh, of course. Hold on just one moment." He hung up. "Somebody get the door!"

Shani happened to be up and moving about on the main level. Though her right arm and right foot were far from healed, she loathed staying in bed all the time and nowadays insisted on limping around and being, as she put it, "vaguely useful." So she was the one to answer the door.

Having expected Penguin, Alfred paused when he laid eyes on the tall woman. "Hello."

"Hello there," Shani answered.

They looked each other up and down for a second.

"Had yourself a bit of a scrap?"

She smirked. "You should see the other guy."

Alfred gave half a smile.

"Shani," Oswald interjected, "Let him in. The man is freezing."

She stepped aside and gestured for Alfred to come in.

"Well this is a pleasant surprise, Alfred, I have to say."

"Nothing pleasant about it. But, as a sign of good will, Master Bruce has sent me personally to deliver his wishes."

"You have my attention. Please, convey your message."

Alfred pulled out a letter and handed it to him. Oswald opened it quickly.

Mr. Cobblepot,

Accept my apologies. Evidence from my current investigation suggests that not only have you told me the truth, but that you hold knowledge which may prove crucial to the restoration of my control of Wayne Enterprises. If you have no plans to the contrary, please come to my home on December 25th, at seven o'clock. Feel welcome to bring Grace, and ask Selina to come as well. I expect you'll know where to find her, since you seem so well acquainted.

Regards,

B. W.

Oswald raised his eyebrows. "This is quite the turn of events."

"Right, so how's that sound then? Christmas dinner at Wayne Manor. Not many people get that sort of invitation."

"Oh, it sounds delightful. I wouldn't miss it for the world. And to be invited by the most powerful person in Gotham…" He smiled. "Who am I to refuse?"

* * *

Oswald had a good feeling about Bruce Wayne, the same sort of feeling he had about Jim. Nevertheless, he certainly didn't trust the boy. Not yet. So he waited in the car with Grace and Selina at a reasonable distance while Victor did a quick sweep of the grounds. Once the all-clear was given, they parked closer and went to the front door, Gabe at their heels.

Alfred opened the door.

Oswald smiled at him. "Merry Christmas."

Selina just walked right in. "Hey, Alfred."

It was clear from the butler's expression that he didn't approve of any of this.

"Who's this then?" Alfred asked, referring to Gabe.

"Oh, this is Gabe. Say hello, Gabe."

"Hello."

"He's one of my most trusted associates."

"Ah, well that's all well and good, but he wasn't invited, was he?"

"Now Alfred, as much as I appreciate this gesture, I am not wholly convinced—"

"Is there a problem?" Bruce approached, Selina at his side.

"Master Bruce, I was just telling your guests that an invitation is needed for this particular dinner."

Oswald smiled. "Mr. Wayne. Gabe here simply came to look after us. I'm…a rather cautious man, you understand. You wouldn't begrudge me a little protection, would you?"

"Of course not. Follow me, please." He led the party to the dining room, ignoring Alfred's clear chagrin. "Your man may stand outside once he deems the room safe."

"Fair enough." He snapped his fingers and Gabe started looking around, checking under the table and chairs and such.

After a moment, he returned to Oswald. "I think we're good, boss."

"Thank you, Gabe."

Bruce went to the head of the table. "If you'll sit down, we can begin soon. We're only waiting for one other person."

"Who?" Oswald asked.

"Sorry I'm late," said Jim as he strode into the dining room, "I let myself in, Alfred. Sorry."

"You're not late, Detective," Bruce said, "Please sit down."

Oswald had taken the seat to Bruce's right, Grace beside him, and Selina beside her. Jim sat to Bruce's left.

"Dinner will be served shortly," said the host, "But in the meantime, we might as well begin our discussion."

"Yes, I'm quite eager for that," Oswald commented, "I have to admit, I did not expect this level of cooperation on your part."

"I've called you all here for a purpose, but Mr. Cobblepot, Detective Gordon, you are here as representatives of each side of the law, both of which I'm afraid my company is invested in."

"So what's my purpose?" asked Cat.

"You're a friend, and you know everyone at this table. I could use your perspective."

She smirked.

Grace didn't say anything, but she didn't escape Bruce's attention. "And yours, Miss Grace, is to remind us all that it's Christmas, and this is ultimately meant to be an amiable dinner. Please, feel welcome to speak your mind at any time."

Grace smiled. She was flattered. "I will. Thank you."

Oswald squeezed her knee under the table, giving her a smile.

 _The boy has good manners when he chooses to use them._

"Now, to the matter at hand. It seems that a department within my company has taken it upon themselves to invest in Gotham's underworld. Namely, by taking control of it. This involves acquiring your territories, Mr. Cobblepot, and eliminating you."

"…That much was fairly clear to me already, Mr. Wayne. To this day, people occupy my home and… _all_ of my warehouses."

"Bruce can just shut down the department," said Cat, "Can't you?"

Oswald shook his head.

"No, Selina. I'm afraid it's not that simple," Bruce answered.

"Departments bring in money," Oswald told Cat, "And there are stockholders to be kept happy." He looked back to Bruce. "I assume."

"Basically, yes. But I intend to help you, nonetheless."

"Bruce," said Jim, "...We have to keep in mind that this man is Gotham's top crime boss. This is playing with fire."

"Dinner is served," Alfred said, coming in with a cart. He began to place bowls of pasta in front of everyone.

There was a round spoon in each dish. Grace looked at hers with a puzzled expression, then at Oswald. He noticed, but kept his attention turned to the detective.

"Technically, _Jim_ , you don't have enough evidence to convict."

 _You certainly don't make it easy to like you sometimes._

He put his napkin in his lap. "But that does beg the question, Mr. Wayne…" He took up his silverware. "Why would you help me at all?"

He began to twirl his pasta onto his fork, aided by the spoon. Grace watched and copied him.

"Why not let this department of yours finish what it started?"

"I have been working against the corruption of Wayne Enterprises since it was entrusted to me. And I will not tolerate murder, kidnapping, torture, or anything of that nature done by my corporation. Not even to you, Mr. Cobblepot."

"Well that's very noble of you. And what would you have me do in return?"

"I would have you feed me information. I'm sure you have a wealth of inside knowledge, given your profession. With it, I may be able to combat the corruption more efficiently."

"Bruce," said Jim, "I'm sorry, but I don't recommend this. People will find out about your connection with him, and they'll use it against you. _He_ might even use it against you. This is like making a deal with the devil."

"I don't know if that's fair, Jim," Grace interjected. She flinched under everyone's sudden attention, but continued. "I mean, I haven't been around very long, but between you and Oswald, well, every time I see you, _you're_ the unpleasant one…He repays loyalty with loyalty. And he seems to think very highly of you, even though you obviously don't see him the same way." She looked at everyone's face in succession. Oswald gave her an encouraging look. "I don't know why we can't just get along."

 _I don't think I've ever been so proud._

He then crossed his arms and looked smugly at Jim, who frowned in return.

"Look, I don't care if you get along or not," said Cat, "Bottom line, we have a problem, and I think we can solve it better together."

"I'm inclined to agree, Selina," Bruce said, "But I must also take Jim's advice into account." He turned to Oswald. "Your reputation for violence is impossible to ignore, Mr. Cobblepot. Many consider you the most dangerous man in Gotham. You understand I am taking quite a risk even talking to you."

"I am a dangerous man, Mr. Wayne. But we both know I'm not like the monsters you've met before. Galavan, for example. I aided in your rescue from him. I trust you know that."

"I do."

"I'm a pragmatist. Even Jim can attest to that. And this alliance that we're flirting with, it's a good idea. We have a common enemy. It's quite a risk, yes, for both of us, but only if we turn on one another."

"Yes…My main cause for concern, however, is that you will attempt to kill those who are responsible for all of this, rather than allow them their day in court."

 _Oh, I certainly will kill them, yes._

Oswald leaned forward. "A friendly word of advice. Don't put your faith in the justice system. Not in Gotham. The courts won't fix a problem like this."

"It's what we have, nonetheless. Violence will only lead to more violence."

"Violence will never go away, Mr. Wayne. Sadly, we live in reality. Take away guns, knives, it wouldn't matter. You can kill a man with a pencil."

"Information, Mr. Cobblepot. That's the deal. Leave the justice to me, and to this side of the law."

"…Done."


	16. Chapter 16

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 16**

Grace awoke one night to the sensation of being clung to. Coming out of the haze of sleep, it had frightened her at first, but she soon remembered that she was in bed with Oswald, and she recognized his touch. She then heard a shuddering breath and a soft sob, and realized that he was crying. She could feel tears soak through the sleeve of her pajama top.

"Oswald?" She ran her fingers through his hair, "Baby, what's wrong?"

He stopped, or at least tried to, and made an effort to steady his voice. "Just a bad dream. I'm sorry I woke you." He pressed his forehead against her temple, still trying to restrain his sobs. "Go back to sleep," he whispered.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No…No, I'm fine. I'll be alright now." He kissed her forehead, clearly in some kind of emotional agony. "Go back to sleep, Grace. Your presence is enough to comfort me."

She didn't know what else she could say. If he didn't want to talk about it, there was nothing much she could do. She kissed him. "You're okay," she said, still trying to help him calm down, "Nothing in your dream was real. You'll feel better tomorrow, I promise."

He pressed his palm against her cheek. "You're right…I know I will. With you by my side, my tomorrows are very bright indeed."

* * *

Things smoothed out after Oswald made his deal with Bruce Wayne, at least as far as Grace could tell. Finding and passing along information was certainly one of the Penguin's most refined skills. And the young billionaire delivered. They were able to move back home, though it needed some repair after being shot up, and control of the warehouses was returned one court settlement after another.

But in spite of all this, Oswald seemed more on edge than ever. He stopped talking to her about business, and he wouldn't let her wear her ring in public. Not wearing it to the Wayne Christmas dinner, she had understood. It had been too soon to announce it like that. But to not wear it outside of the house at all…

Oswald had been passionate about getting married at first. He had acted like he wanted to shout his love from the rooftops. Now he seemed almost afraid to say 'I love you' above a whisper. It made Grace nervous.

And because she was so terrible at masking her feelings, Oswald sensed something was off right away.

"Are you unhappy about something?" he asked over breakfast.

"Huh? Oh, no…Why do you ask?"

"You're not eating."

"Oh. Sorry. Just got distracted, I guess."

"Distracted over what?"

"Well…um…"

 _You still love me…don't you?_

"Oswald, when are we going to get married?"

He put down his silverware. "Oh. I suppose we never talked about that, did we?" He offered a gentle smile. "When do you want to get married?"

She thought for a short moment. "I'd be okay with getting married really soon. I don't need a big wedding."

Oswald sighed and smiled. "Neither do I. That suits me just fine." He reached over and took her hand. "You can name the day. I'll make the arrangements."

"Let's do it this weekend," she blurted out.

He paused, thinking.

"Or is that…too soon?"

"Well, it's two days from now." He shrugged. "But I'm sure I can manage something. And I have to say…your eagerness is flattering."

"Oh, well of course I'm eager. I'm crazy about you. You know that."

"Just as I'm mad about you, my love." He kissed her hand. "We'll get married Saturday."

 _Oh thank God._

Grace smiled widely. She pulled his hand to her lips then and kissed it in turn. "Awesome. I'm so excited."

She then turned back to her food, thinking of the wedding now. "…I guess I should go shopping, shouldn't I? Can't get married without a dress."

He smiled at her fondly. "Of course…And on that note, may I make a suggestion?"

Her mouth was full, but she smiled at him brightly and nodded.

"I think we'll have a morning wedding, if that's alright. So, I'd recommend a short dress."

She swallowed. "I thought wedding dresses were supposed to be long."

"Well, yes, typically. But ours will be less formal, and it won't be in the evening, so a long dress really isn't necessary."

"Oh." She shrugged. "Well that's fine. I don't care."

"And, if I'm being honest…a short dress will ultimately be more-" He cleared his throat. "-accessible."

She blushed, smiling to herself. "Yeah…Good point."

* * *

Grace pulled the white satin fabric over her head. When it was straightened and zipped, she stepped out of the dressing room into Shani's view.

The butler looked her over with a keen eye. "What do _you_ think?" she said finally.

Grace studied herself in the mirror. The dress was fairly plain, yet pretty, with a little bow set at the front of her hips. But she didn't like the way it flared out from her waist, and the material was too…shiny.

"This isn't the one," she answered.

"Yeah, agreed." Shani picked up another dress and handed it to her. "Now, I know you don't like this one on the hanger, but try it on for me, alright? I feel good about it."

Grace rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Fine."

She stepped back into the dressing room. The one Shani had chosen was sleeveless and had little ruffles crisscrossing all over the place. The hem was asymmetrical, and there was a bundle of small pink roses at the waist. Grace thought it looked weird, but she put it on to appease her friend.

When she stepped out again, she expected Shani to laugh and admit that she was mistaken after all. But her friend's face only held a look of awe.

"Oh my God. Grace…I don't mean to pressure you, but I think that's the one."

Grace turned to look at herself. The dress was eccentric, yes, but to her surprise, it flattered her beautifully.

"You look like the bride of Oswald Cobblepot," the butler remarked.

Grace smiled. "I do, don't I?"

 _Mrs. Grace Cobblepot…It's too wonderful to be true._

The dress was bought, packaged, and ready to go. Still, the two women lingered to look at accessories and such. It was then that a man entered the store. Tall, husky, and wearing a lot of leather, he certainly didn't seem to belong. Especially when he discreetly produced a gun from his jacket.

Shani reacted quickly, throwing herself at him from his left, upsetting his aim just as he fired. It all happened too fast for Grace. All she knew was suddenly something hard and burning hot was zipping past her. She clutched her right side and stared as Shani grappled with the gunman.

Normally, the dark-skinned woman would have had no problem putting down a man like this, but she was still healing. She took a sharp blow to the face, and as she reeled, the man took aim again. Grace looked into his eyes as he pointed the gun at her.

 _This is it. This is how I die. Oh God._

Shani put a knife into his shoulder, however, and he dropped the weapon. The two continued to struggle. Finally, Grace snapped out of her state of shock.

 _If I don't help her, I really will be dead._

Her hand dove into her purse then, frantically searching for her small gun. Seconds ticked by, but at last she found it, dropping her purse to the floor. The man had Shani on her back now and was attempting to strangle her. Grace aimed.

 _God, please don't let me hit Shani._

She hesitated, got down on her knees, on the gunman's level, and aimed again, firing twice into the man's side. Shani kneed him in the groin then, and the man toppled over, his teeth gritted in pain. The butler was quick to get on top.

"Who sent you?" she demanded.

"Go…go to hell," the man gasped.

"You first." Shani scowled and twisted the knife that was still embedded in his shoulder. The man screamed.

"Tell me!" she demanded again.

"Aaaagh! Carbone!" he cried, "Jerry Carbone!"

Shani smiled mockingly. "There now. That wasn't so hard."

"You gotta get me to a hospital," the man started to plead.

"Hmm." She pulled the knife from his shoulder. "How about a morgue?"

Blood splashed onto the nearest dress display as she dispatched him, the red seeping quickly into the innocent white.

Grace limply sat on the floor, staring. Shani rushed to her and knelt by her side.

"Are you alright? Are you hit?"

 _…Am I?_

"Um…" She felt her left side. It stung badly.

Shani pushed her blouse aside and looked. The bullet had torn through the fabric, but there was no blood. A light red streak was all that marked her flesh. The butler sighed in relief.

"God, you're lucky," she said, "It just barely grazed you. You're alright."

"…Shani." Fear started to creep into her heart. "What happened? Why did he…?"

"I don't know yet, but don't worry. We'll sort it out. It's alright. I'm going to get you home."

* * *

Oswald was at her side the moment Grace walked through the door, looking her over and pulling her close. He looked like he would choke on his own rage. Shani had informed him of what had happened with a phone call on their way back.

"This was Carbone?" he confirmed, still holding Grace tightly to his chest.

"Yeah," Shani replied, "At least that's what the guy said."

"Fine. That decides that then. Call Victor."

"Yes, sir." And with that, Shani left them in the sitting room, closing the door behind her.

Oswald turned his attention to Grace then. He directed her to the couch and knelt before her, taking her face in his hands. He looked so pained. Tears were brimming in his eyes. It made Grace feel awful.

"How could I have allowed this to happen?"

"But it's not your fault. It was just—"

"It was foolish of me." A tear slid down his cheek. "Foolish to think I could have it all. That's hubris for you." Another tear. "When will I learn?"

She wiped away his tears. "It's okay. I'm fine. I'm not hurt."

His hand moved to her side, gingerly feeling the torn fabric. "I am responsible for your well-being, and I failed you." He sniffled. "This was way too close…I'm so sorry."

She kissed his forehead. "It's okay. I don't blame you. You don't have to apologize."

Oswald's face grew somber and he took a deep breath. "I want you to go upstairs, and I want you to pack your things."

"Are we…going to another safe-house?"

His jaw clenched. "Not exactly, my love. I'm…I've decided to send you away for a while. There's a place by the ocean that I think you'll like."

 _No…_

"Oswald…you're not—"

"Please." He was straining with his emotions. "It's safer this way…I'm…I'm so sorry."

Her chest tightened. "I won't leave you…You can't make me." Tears came to her own eyes. "We're getting married. Oswald, we're getting married in two days."

"Marrying me is like painting a giant target on your back." There was an unbearable note of self-loathing in his voice. "I will not be responsible for your death; do you understand? I will not watch you die."

His tears spilled again, which encouraged hers to do the same.

 _I've seen that look on him before._

"…That's what the nightmares have been about, haven't they?" She took his face in her hands again. He leaned into her touch. "About me dying."

"Yes. And I won't let them happen while I'm awake." Resolve came into his eyes.

She met his gaze steadily.

 _I won't let you do this. I won't be cast aside again. Not even by the king of Gotham._

"Oswald…" She knelt on the floor with him. "You _saved_ me. My life was hell, and it was about to end." Her voice shook, but it was determined. "Brutally. _Cruelly_. In a dark alley. And nobody would have even noticed I was gone." A tear fell, but she continued. "But then you came, and you took me to heaven." Her voice broke. "You were so good to me. And I fell so desperately in love with you."

He took in a shaking breath, hanging on every word she said. Tears streaked his face.

"For the rest of my life, no matter how long it is, I want to be with you. Okay?"

 _Please. Please, Oswald._

He kissed her, fighting back his tears. "Okay," he said softly, "…Okay." Reaching over, he grabbed the phone off the side table and dialed a number. "Cancel the evacuation."

He hung up.

Grace let out a breath. "Thank you."

He nodded and wiped away his tears, thinking. "You have your dress?"

"Yeah."

"Good. We're getting married in the morning."

She grinned. "Really?"

"Yes. Early. So I suggest we prepare."

With some reluctance, he stood. She stood with him, still smiling.

"I obtained the necessary documents this afternoon," he said, leading her out of the sitting room, "All we need to do is sign a couple things, really. Originally, I intended to go to the courthouse, but now I'm going to bring the courthouse to us, so to speak."

Grace was practically bouncing up and down. "So what time? When do I need to be ready?"

"Eight o'clock, I think, if that's alright."

"That's fine."

 _The sooner the better. I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight._

She pulled him into a hug. "I'm so excited, Oswald. I'm so happy. Thank you so much."

He sighed, holding her tight. "I will be all that I can be for you, Grace. I promise you."


	17. Chapter 17

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 17**

Sleep did not come easily for Oswald that night. Preparations aside, the stress of Grace being shot at aside, he was also just plain nervous. The following morning, in mere hours, Grace would become his wife, and he would pledge his very soul to loving and protecting her for the rest of his days. And as if that wasn't enough to think about, there was also the matter of consummating their marriage, which he was impatient for, but nervous about nevertheless. He'd have loved to have had her that way a long time ago, but fate had denied him. Marriage, however, was sure to change that.

Grace slept fitfully at his side. He watched her in the dim light, her chest rising and falling.

 _I'll make love to you tomorrow, my dear. For sure this time._

He had everything arranged, short notice though it was. The documentation, the hotel, the security; they were as ready as they could be.

 _No emergencies. No assassins. No interruptions. Just you and me, and a bed._

 _…And a shower._

He kissed her forehead gently. There was nothing he wanted more in all the world.

* * *

Morning came at last, and with it a flurry of activity. Oswald sent Gabe for the Justice of the Peace and double checked everything. He then spent the next hour and a half readying himself in front of a mirror while Grace was assuredly doing the same thing in her room.

He sighed as he fussed with a stray hair for the hundredth time. "I'm preening," he admitted to himself.

Finally, it was time to get things started. Oswald went down to greet the man Gabe had retrieved. He was an older, anxious-looking fellow.

"Please," the man said, "This is very unorthodox. Please let me go."

"Really, sir," Oswald replied pleasantly, "I think I have more cause to be nervous than you do. Just do your job and you'll be out of here in no time at all."

His smile faded for a second and he leaned closer to the man.

"And don't tell anybody you were here. Or I might feel inclined to inform the press about that little affair. The one with the sixteen year old."

The man went pale. "…No. No, Morgan was eighteen."

Oswald raised his eyebrows, his scoff dissolving into a laugh. "I'm sorry; I assumed you knew. She's a high school sophomore." He laughed harder. "You should see the look on your face."

"It's not true."

"No? Look into it yourself. Any competent eleven year old could find out that sort of information. You obviously just never bothered do your homework." He laughed again, even harder. "A trait you probably share with Morgan," he said teasingly.

Though he was enjoying the man's misery, he turned his eyes towards the door when footsteps could be heard. Shani entered first, looking polished as always, despite the arm sling and remaining limp. A thin scar would mark her cheek, but her face was otherwise nearly healed.

"Places everyone," she said.

Gabe shoved the Justice towards the small table which held the papers. Oswald smoothed out his suit and clasped his hands in front of him, awaiting his bride. His heartbeat seemed to count down the seconds.

And then there she was.

Grace. His Grace. In a dress that he couldn't have picked better himself. And she was smiling at him. Suddenly, Oswald's heart was in his throat.

 _She loves me._

Her hair was clipped back in a simple but elegant ponytail, and she held a single white rose in place of a bouquet. She walked towards him steadily in her high heels and then took his hands, setting the flower aside. Her warm skin sent tingles up his arms.

He smiled and kissed her left hand. "Shall we?"

Her smile grew bigger. "Let's."

They turned to the papers.

Gabe nudged the official, who seemed to have become lost in thought. "Do your thing, Justice."

The startled man cleared his throat and looked over the document in front of him. "This…seems to be in order. Now all it will truly take is our signatures. But…I expect you had some sort of ceremony in mind?"

"A brief one, yes," Oswald answered, "but nothing you need to worry about. You're more than welcome to leave after you've signed. As long as you remember our little arrangement."

"I won't be telling a soul about this."

Grace gave Oswald a curious look, but didn't say anything.

"Well then proceed, sir, if you please."

The Justice sighed and took up a pen, quickly scrawling out his signature on the dotted line. He then turned the paper to Oswald.

"If you'll just sign there, Mr. Cobblepot. And you here, Ms. Ackerman. And you'll need a witness. That's all there is to it."

Oswald signed his name neatly, without hesitation, and watched eagerly as Grace signed hers. Gabe signed as the witness.

 _There. She's mine. Grace is truly mine now._

He took her hands in his.

"Thank you all for coming. Consider yourselves dismissed," he said.

Grace seemed surprised as everyone left. "That's it?" she asked.

"No," he replied, kissing her hand once more, "but the rest can be done privately."

From his pocket, he produced her ring. Reverently, he took her left hand.

"I, Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, take you, Grace, to be my wife. I swear on everything that I am that I will protect and provide for you…for as long as we both shall live. For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, I will love you always. And I promise…I promise to try to be the husband that you deserve."

With a slight tremor in his hands, he slipped the ring on her finger.

It was her turn now. She copied his movements and took his left hand. "…I, Grace Kelly Ackerman, take you, Oswald, to be my husband. I love you with all my heart, and…I don't know what else to say; I'm so nervous all of a sudden. But I promise I'll try to be the best wife you could ever have. And I'll stand by your side, no matter what happens."

She slid the gold ring onto his finger.

 _Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry._

Oswald cleared his throat. "I believe at this point, a priest would normally say 'I now pronounce you husband and wife…and you may kiss the bride.'"

Grace grinned, her eyes glistening, and she threw her arms around his neck, kissing him joyously. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her passionately back.

 _This is perfect. This is what perfect happiness is. How long can I hold on to this?_

When at last they pulled apart, Oswald looked into his wife's beautiful green eyes. "Are you ready to go, Mrs. Cobblepot?"

She laughed. "I'm _so_ ready."

He gestured to the door. "The limo awaits."

* * *

The ride to the hotel did nothing but heighten Oswald's anticipation. The suspense, what they were about to do, it hung heavily in the air around them. But at last, they arrived, and he silently congratulated himself for booking such a lavish place on such short notice. Not only did it prove that his connections were still good, but it gave his enemies almost no time to lay a trap for him there.

 _We can enjoy each other in safety._

Though both of them were eager to get to the room, Grace lagged a bit as she took in the luxurious lobby. She stared in awe at the high ceiling, the crystal chandeliers twinkling. Oswald smiled. He continued to pull her along, but it occurred to him that she had probably never been inside a high-end hotel like this one, so he slowed his pace so that she could observe as she liked.

The next handful of minutes seemed like hours, but finally he was closing the door to their room and locking the rest of the world out. He turned to her then, and already his heart was beating faster. Grace stood near the bed. She was still smiling, but her arms were crossed and she was noticeably less relaxed.

 _She's probably more nervous than I am._

He stepped forward. "Grace…"

A knock at the door halted his steps. Suddenly feeling highly annoyed, he turned and looked through the peephole. It was a young man with a cart, on which was a bottle of chilled champagne. Rolling his eyes, he opened the door.

"Compliments of the hotel, sir," the fellow said, "We're honored to have you as our guest."

"Yes, I'm sure you are. But bring your frivolities up to me some other time. Preferably, when I ask for them." He shut the door in the man's face.

Turning to Grace again, he shrugged off his irritation and approached her, taking her into his arms and kissing her tenderly. She trembled slightly as his hand began to inch towards the zipper at her back.

Another knock at the door; he froze. With a sigh, he turned back to the door. Now he was getting angry. It was the same young man, still there. Oswald yanked the door open.

" _What?_ "

"Um, I'm sorry. I didn't get a chance to show you." He lifted the cloth on the cart, revealing a second level containing chocolate-covered strawberries. "These were meant to go with the champagne. If that…" He swallowed. "…makes a difference."

Oswald glared at him. "Let me be clear. When I want something, I'll call. _Don't_ interrupt me again." He slammed the door shut.

He was not one step away from the door, however, when there was another knock. Truly angry now, he pulled his switchblade from his sleeve and flicked it open. Grace gasped and stepped towards him, placing her hands on his chest.

"Just ignore it," she pleaded, "You don't have to answer. He'll go away."

Oswald sighed and kissed her forehead. "You're a very sweet girl."

Another knock. Anger flashed in his eyes again, but Grace's pleading look softened him. Reassuring her with a nod, he turned once more and opened the door.

"I really apologize, sir, but I…"

The man trailed off as Oswald calmly picked up the bottle of champagne, wiped off a few flecks of ice from the glass, and proceeded to throw it down the hallway. It shattered against the wall near the floor with a loud crash. The server looked back at him, mouth agape.

Oswald smiled and gave him a somewhat patronizing look. "I suggest you clean that up before it stains." He closed and locked the door for the final time.

Grace stared, mouth open, but a smile was growing. "I don't know whether to be shocked or impressed."

He smiled. "Be impressed," he recommended, and with that he was kissing her, passionately this time. It took him a few long seconds to realize that his knife was still in his hand, but by then their kiss was too heated to interrupt. With a good, hard throw, he relieved himself of the weapon, leaving it partially embedded in the wall. Grace moaned into the kiss, spurring him on further. With much less hesitancy, he reached for her zipper again and pulled down. She gasped as the dress loosened and fell around her ankles.

Oswald let out a breath at the sight of her. She wore a white strapless bra and matching panties decorated with lace. He quickly began taking off his suit jacket, never taking his eyes off of her.

 _She's mine. Only mine. I'm the only man who will ever touch her._

His vest soon joined the jacket on the floor, and he began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Oswald?"

He stopped and met her eyes.

"Let's…sit on the bed. I want to take my shoes off."

"Oh, of course," he replied.

He helped her step out of the dress on the floor and led her to the bed. She smiled and began removing her heels. He followed suit and took his own shoes off. There was a pause afterwards as they looked at each other shyly, but then Grace smiled and started to unbutton his shirt. He ran his hand slowly up and down her back as she did so. When his crisp white shirt fell among the other discarded clothes, he began to undo his belt.

"Oswald?"

He looked at her again. Her arms were crossed self-consciously.

"I'm really nervous," she said softly.

 _So am I._

He touched her face. "I know…But we can take our time." He leaned closer and kissed her tenderly. "I'll be gentle. I promise."

She smiled at the reassurance and he kissed her again. Grace had grown fairly comfortable with allowing him to see her naked over the recent weeks, and so she barely flinched when he unclasped her bra. The more naked they both became, however, the more anxious she seemed, and a moment later there was nothing between them whatsoever.

Kissing her neck, he began to ease her onto her back. She whimpered. He pulled away a bit and stroked her face. "I'll be careful. You can trust me."

She nodded. "I trust you."

 _She trusts you, Oswald. So at least_ pretend _you know what you're doing._

If he was really being honest, he wanted to take her like a dog in heat, hard and fast, and get rid of this god-awful frustration. But that sort of lovemaking would have to wait, he knew. It would only hurt her now, and that was the last thing he wanted. So he went slowly, he touched her tenderly, and for every nervous whimper, he gave a gentle reassurance.

Becoming one with Grace that morning was like an ascension into heaven. The physical pleasure, the soulful connection, it consumed his very being. If he thought he'd loved her before this, he loved her all the more deeply now. But despite the perfection of it, Oswald knew that it had caused her pain, and for that he felt vaguely guilty.

"I'm sorry," he said, kissing her face again and again. Still catching his breath, he wiped her tears away and pressed his forehead to hers. "I'm sorry…It shouldn't hurt like that again. I love you. I love you so much, Grace."

"I love you, too. I didn't mean to cry. I'm…I'm okay."

He held her close for another moment as they both relaxed and recovered. He then kissed her forehead again, smelling her hair.

"I'll draw you a bath," he said, and reluctantly left her side.

* * *

The next four days were quite possibly the best days of Oswald's life. He did almost nothing but eat, sleep, and make love to his angelic new wife. And to his relief, and hers as well, Grace's body adjusted to sex fairly quickly. She hadn't enjoyed it in the way he'd hoped she would the first couple of times, but gradually she came to love it as much as he did. She would even initiate it, which was very exciting. He certainly couldn't imagine life getting better than that.

Alas, the honeymoon couldn't last forever, as much as they might have wanted it to. They chatted as they packed to go home.

"I still can't believe we're really married," Grace commented, stuffing her pajamas into her bag.

"Did I not spend the last five days proving it to you?" he teased, neatly folding a pair of his pants.

She blushed ever so slightly. "Okay, yeah, maybe."

He raised his eyebrows. "Maybe?"

She chuckled. "Okay, yeah, _definitely_."

"That's better; thank you."

"…Oswald?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Let's just…run away together."

He looked up from his suitcase, a little surprised by her sudden seriousness. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…you've done super well. You're rich. We could just go to some beach and never come back."

 _…She's not wrong._

"But Grace—"

"And it would be safer for both of us, right? We could just live and love and never have to worry about getting shot at again. It would be like a honeymoon forever."

 _A honeymoon forever. God, that's tempting._

"So what do you think?"

 _Oh my love…I can't._

"Grace…" He stepped over to her and ran his hands down her arms. "What you've just described sounds like paradise, like heaven on earth." He looked down. "But I can't go. I can't, and I'm sorry."

 _Please don't hate me for this._

"Gotham is my home. This city…I _need_ to be here. I know it's dangerous, and part of me wishes we could just leave it all behind, truly…but I love it. This life, it's what I was meant for. It's what I'm good at."

 _Am I crazy? Am I crazy for staying when I could walk away with the woman of my dreams?_

He expected her to argue the point, to try to convince him otherwise. He almost wanted her to. Instead, she took his face in her hands and kissed him.

"I understand," she said.

Her selflessness pricked his heart.

"I don't deserve you," he said softly.

She kissed him again. "Nonsense. Of course you do." Another lingering kiss. "Let's go home."


	18. Chapter 18

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 18**

Grace eased into the bath and let out a long sigh as she allowed herself to relax. The hot water immediately began to soothe her, gradually easing the discomfort between her legs. There hadn't been anything unbearable about losing her virginity. And she knew it could have been a lot worse. Oswald was an attentive and compassionate lover. He had done everything he could think of to make her comfortable. She had no complaints.

In fact…

"Hey, Oswald?" she called.

He was opening the bathroom door less than two seconds later. He had put on underwear and his white shirt, which he'd left unbuttoned. His hair was all messy. She smiled.

 _He's so adorable._

"Yes? I'm here."

 _He's like a sweet little puppy._

She reached out to him. "I miss you."

Two steps and he was kneeling by the tub, taking her hand and kissing it. "How do you feel?"

"Better. The water helps. Don't worry."

"I feel badly for hurting you."

"Don't sweat it. I enjoyed myself, really." She sighed and pulled him into a kiss. "I'll get used to it."

 _I hope._

She could tell he was already becoming eager to do it again, and she would have hated to deny him. But she wasn't ready just yet.

 _But maybe he'd be satisfied with just being close to me for a while._

"This tub is awfully big," she said, "Why don't you join me?"

He grinned and removed his shirt. "I thought you'd never ask."

Arranging themselves together in the bath was a little awkward, but eventually they settled with Grace leaning against his chest as he cradled her from behind. And as he idly ran his fingers up and down her arm, she grew exceedingly relaxed, the hot water bringing a comfortable flush to her cheeks.

She was very nearly asleep when she felt his hands slide gently over her breasts. Combined with the sensation of his lips tracing the crook of her shoulder, warm tingles began to circulate all over. Slowly, his right hand crept south of her chest, carefully making its way between her legs.

"What are you doing?" she muttered, eyes still closed.

"Sshhh," he answered softly, "Relax."

Grace gasped as he hit just that right spot, sending another wave of tingles radiating across her abdomen.

"Oswald," she whimpered.

"I'm here," he whispered, "I love you, Grace."

He increased the speed of his movement, startling her with a jolt of pleasure. She couldn't think.

She could only feel.

A cool bead of water trailing down her arm. Her husband's warm breath on her neck. His slender fingers driving her crazy. Her hips bucked forward of their own volition, disturbing the water.

A few minutes later, she was practically singing his name, and he held her with almost surprising strength as she writhed under his touch. It was exquisite, and when she finally pushed his hand away, she could hardly catch her breath.

 _He's incredible. He's perfect. I'm so lucky._

When she had finally recovered, she turned to face him. His eyes were so adoring, her heart fluttered as if this were a high school crush. Unable to resist, she began kissing him, her hands wandering. In the heat of the next moment, she straddled him. He pulled away from her lips to look into her eyes, but he did not loosen his hold on her waist. His body practically trembled with excitement.

"Are you sure?" he asked, "Are you sure you're alright?"

 _Always thinking of me. Always putting me first…That's why I want to do this._

"I'm okay. I want to try again."

He pulled her into a deep kiss without another word, and she could feel his other hand between them under the water, positioning himself. Before she could think too much about it, Grace began to lower herself onto him. To her relief, it wasn't as difficult a fit as the first time, but it still wasn't totally comfortable, and she winced. From on top, however, she could control the pace, so she went slowly as she adjusted and worked to stay relaxed. Oswald didn't interfere, though she could tell by his grip on her that he was struggling not to move. Still, he was certainly enjoying himself. His facial expressions, the little noises he made, they gave him away. And they made Grace's stomach jump with tickles of excitement.

 _This is better. Focusing on him makes it better._

About then, Oswald thrust upwards involuntarily. It surprised her, but it made the pleasurable tingles burst in her core again.

"Oh my God," she couldn't help but exclaim.

"Are you okay?" he asked, breathing hard.

"Yes. Yes. Do that again."

The look of utter joy on his face made her smile, and with an almost uncontainable level of enthusiasm, he did as she said.

Oswald was a very expressive man. Really, the only time his face was neutral was when he was asleep, and Grace loved that about him. His intelligent eyes, his sarcastic mouth, there were so many levels to what he could express with his adorable face. Never was that truer than when he found completion inside of her. Looking into his eyes, she could see it overwhelming him, a vulnerable, spiritual kind of joy that made her love him more than she even realized she could.

When he was finished, she didn't move to separate them for a moment. Instead, they simply held on to one another, breathing hard. Grace had to admit, his presence in her body still didn't feel exactly perfect. There was kind of a pinch to it, a sting to remind her that her muscles weren't used to it yet. Nevertheless, the pleasure was there, and the way it mixed with the pain felt…primal, somehow. Like she was becoming a part of the most basic function of nature. And to share it with him, it was beautiful. She kissed the moist skin of his neck.

"I love you," she said, not knowing what else to say or how else to say it, "I love you."

* * *

Given how dangerous life had been recently, Grace expected it to get worse after they were married. Attempting not to be such a liability, she therefore made a point to practice with her gun as often as she could, and she followed the business as closely as Oswald would allow, having convinced him that more knowledge would help her make the safest decisions. Her involvement ultimately pleased him, and it made her feel useful, so it was a win-win.

Surprisingly, however, their first six months of marriage were practically breezy. They were more careful, yes, but there were no hostile takeovers, nor any assassination attempts. The Penguin was more powerful than ever. No one dared cross him.

Which meant no one dared cross his woman.

Which was how Grace found herself in a sinful red dress at the Iceberg Lounge facing one of the most terrifying men she had ever known, and not feeling even the tiniest bit afraid.

It was a normal night. Oswald was working the crowd, enjoying himself, a drink in his hand and a charming smile on his face. Grace hung out with Shani mostly, but her husband never strayed too far.

"Not that I'm allowed to call him that," she complained to the butler.

Her friend only rolled her eyes. "Grace, he thinks it's safer, and I agree. Everyone has a lover, but spouses are risky. So shut up and enjoy yourself. Call him 'husband' in the bedroom."

Grace sighed, but laughed in spite of herself. "Fine, okay, I get it. I'll try to get over it." She sipped at her drink. "But I don't have to like it."

"No, you don't. And let me tell you, darling, you're rich and powerful enough, you can be as much of a bitchy diva as you choose. Never forget that."

She smirked at her friend, but in the middle of deciding whether she should take that as good advice or some kind of insult, a man approached their table. She recognized him immediately, and immediately felt like she could vomit.

"Oh my God," the man said, "Little Gracie Ackerman. Whoa, have you filled out. Holy hell, Gracie, what are you doing here?"

 _Why me, God?_

"It's Grace," she said coldly, leaning away.

"Well _Grace_ ," he said sarcastically, "you gonna introduce me to your friend?"

Grace only scowled and looked away.

The butler jumped in. "I'm Shani. Who the hell are you?"

"Danny Mazo. Nice to meet ya. Gracie's being sour, but we know each other from way back."

 _Yeah, an asshole from way back. And he still looks at me like a perverted wolf._

"Hey, how's your dad, babycakes? I could use a good poker game."

"He's dead, and it's _Grace_. Back off, Danny."

"What's your problem? I'm just being friendly. What are you doing here anyway? And in that dress, wow." He paused as he looked her up and down. "You here with somebody?"

Grace only scowled again.

"Look, guy," Shani chimed in, "You obviously don't know who you're talking to. So why don't you go rejoin the party?"

"I tell you what you can do," he replied, "You can get me another drink. Jack and Coke. I know who I'm talking to."

Shani was about to take him out right there; it was easy to see, but Grace put a hand on her arm.

 _I am so done with this._

"Go get him." That was all she needed to say.

Shani hesitated, but decided to obey. "Gabe is nearby. I won't be long."

She disappeared into the crowd, leaving Grace alone with her past. Danny took the empty seat.

"Good thinking, getting rid of her. Who needs a third wheel, right?"

 _He's not even bothering to look at my eyes anymore._

"Anyway, I gotta ask, are you like a show girl or something now? I mean, that dress is something else. Wow…So seriously, are you, uh, entertaining anyone, or can we just get outta here?"

Grace caught sight of Oswald making his way towards them, Shani at his heels. From his face, she could see that her friend had filled him in on the situation. She smirked a little to herself.

 _You can kiss your ass goodbye, Danny Mazo._

He came to Grace's side, staring down the man who sat across from her. "Grace, dearest, won't you introduce us?"

"Of course, my love," she replied, staring the man down as well, "This is Danny Mazo. An old friend of my dad's."

Oswald knew that wasn't a good thing. He put a supportive hand on her shoulder, never removing his eyes from the man. She put her hand on his.

"An old friend. Well…perhaps we should invite him up for a drink."

"Oh, I think that's an awesome idea." She stood. "Come on, Danny. Oswald has a private lounge here."

Danny stood as well and offered a hand to Oswald. "Hey, I didn't know Gracie was doing so well for herself. It's nice to meet ya."

Oswald returned the handshake with just a hint of distaste. "Believe me, the pleasure's all mine. What a coincidence that you should run into Grace here."

"You own this place, right?"

"I do, yes. You're very astute."

Danny nudged Grace's shoulder. "Way to go, Gracie. You're doing better than I thought. No wonder you weren't running off with me just now. No offense, Ozzie; I had to try, ya know?"

He continued to yammer on the whole way to the room upstairs. Grace was barely listening at that point, though. She was thinking too much on what was about to happen. How was she going to handle it?

 _Oswald will probably let me decide what to do. So…what should I do?_

They were just to the lounge now, and Danny chose that moment to be sneaky and pinch her bottom. Without thinking, she whipped around and slapped him. Everyone froze.

Danny looked at her in shock. "Jesus, Gracie, you've changed."

Grace looked at Oswald. Silently, he asked her what had happened. All she had to do was tell him, and this would be over. Danny's throat would be slit before he could blink. But it wasn't the right time. She shook her head and walked on.

 _Screw it. I know exactly what to do._

She marched straight to her favorite spot on the leather couch and sat down. The bartender was at her side instantly.

"The usual, Ms. Grace?" he asked.

"Thank you, Michael," she replied with a slight nod.

The door closed and was locked. Danny was about to call to Michael for a drink of his own, but was cut off when Shani suddenly kneed him in the stomach.

He buckled to his knees, gasping. "What…what the hell?"

"You can do yourself a favor and shut the hell up, Danny," Grace said icily.

He started to stand.

"Stay on your knees," she commanded.

Gabe put a hand on his shoulder, forcing him back down.

"I like you better this way."

 _More like a footstool than a man._

"Hey, take it easy. So I called you Gracie and you didn't like it. I didn't do anything to deserve _this_."

"How about you pinching my ass every chance you got since I was fifteen? How about you trying to win me in a poker game when I was seventeen? I don't give a damn about your stupid nickname, Danny. You're not gonna walk in here and talk to me now. Not like this."

Oswald, who stood at Grace's side, silently fumed at her words. Danny could tell, and he went a little pale. He at least knew enough to realize how dangerous things had gotten.

"Uh…Listen, Gracie— _Grace_ …I'm sorry."

"You're sorry…For what, Danny? What about that time you tried to blackmail Dad into letting you spend the night with me? Are you sorry for that? Or are you just sorry that you never got your grubby hands on me?"

 _This feels good. I'm feeling the power._

"Hey…" He was getting nervous. "I'm offended. Really. I never had any bad intentions with you. You know that."

She scoffed. "I was _terrified_ of you. But screw that. Those days are _so_ over. Shani was right. You don't know who I am anymore."

She beckoned to her husband. Oswald bent at the waist and listened as she whispered in his ear. He grinned. She could tell he was proud of her. Within the next thirty seconds, the Penguin had a shotgun in his hands. He smiled at Danny and held it casually against his shoulder, waiting for the right time to put it to use. Their hostage turned a shade whiter.

"Oh, quit looking at Oswald like he's going to kill you." She pulled her own gun from her purse. "Really, it's me you should worry about. Given our history."

"Grace…sweetheart, please…" he started to beg.

"Not another word out of you, Danny Mazo. I'm sick of your voice."

 _Shani was right. I can be a bitchy diva sometimes. Who's going to stop me?_

"I'm going to tell you exactly who I am." She pointed her gun for emphasis. "But first, let me explain who this is." She gestured with her free hand to her husband. "This is Oswald Cobblepot. Some people call him the Penguin. And he owns this city. Along with every scumbag in it. Which includes you. You got that? _He owns you_ …Now watch this." She reached over and took Oswald's hand. The one that wasn't holding the large gun. "Oswald, baby, can I ask something of you?"

"Of course, dearest." He looked smugly at Danny. "Anything."

 _He loves this game. Good. I love it, too._

"Did you hear that, Danny? The king of Gotham just said he'd do anything for me. Starting to get the picture?" She pointed her gun at him. "Oswald, I know you didn't want to stain this rug, but do you mind?"

"Not at all, Grace. I've honestly considered redecorating this room anyway."

Danny put his hands up. "No, don't. Grace, please. I'll do anything. I'm on my knees. I'm begging ya."

"I told you not to speak."

Oswald cocked the shotgun. Grace appreciated the emphasis it added to her words.

She looked up at him again. "You're sure you don't mind?" she asked sweetly.

He raised his eyebrows and nodded.

She looked back to Danny, her gun still aimed at him. "Well, that's settled then…But you know what?" She lowered her weapon. "I don't even need to do this. That's not who I really am, after all." The gun went back into her purse.

Danny looked relieved for a split second, but then Grace gave Oswald a pat on the arm, and he took aim.

"Do you get it yet?" she asked her victim, "Do you know who I am?" She leaned forward, looking him right in the eye. "I'm the fucking queen of Gotham."

She signaled to Oswald with a flick of her wrist, and he pulled the trigger. Danny's chest exploded. Meanwhile, Grace's heart was pounding. She had never felt this exhilarated, this free. She had lived in fear for most of her life, and yet now that seemed so far behind her. And beneath her. She was never going to bow down to creeps like Danny Mazo ever again.

It took a minute to realize that Oswald was staring at her, but when she did, she recognized his look.

"Everybody out," he said, "And take that with you." He gestured to the body, setting his gun aside. He didn't break eye contact with her.

In another minute, they were alone. Grace took a drink of her cocktail and stood, still holding the glass. She considered apologizing about the rug. After all, it had cost a fortune, and it was ruined now. But she thought better of it. She knew he didn't care. Not with the way he was looking at her.

He wasn't just saying "I want you" with his beautiful blue eyes. He was looking at her like she was a goddess. And in that moment, she felt like one. She set down her glass. The collision that followed would be nothing but a delightful blur in her mind the following morning. All of a sudden, before she could comprehend it really, they had thrown themselves together, kissing and touching like mad. Three minutes later, he was bending her over the pool table. By the end of the night, they had broken a lamp and Grace couldn't feel her toes.

Slumping on the couch, she sipped at what was left of her drink, the ice having melted. Oswald was at her side, nursing a stronger drink that he'd made for himself. They held hands.

"Oswald?"

"Yes, my queen?"

"We're going home, right? I mean, we're not spending the night here, are we?"

"No." He kissed her shoulder. "We can go home. I just didn't want to rush you."

"Okay." She took another drink. "Come on then. Whisk me away to our castle. I'm ready for bed."


	19. Chapter 19

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 19**

Life was perfect. Oswald was on cloud nine basically all the time. Business was flourishing, and he had never had better security. His position as king of Gotham was unquestionable. And Grace was the cherry on top. There was nothing he treasured more. She loved him. She was his wife. What more could a man hope to have? He adored her in every way.

The way to the bedroom, however, was most likely his favorite. They had gotten good at it. There was something magical about getting lost in those wide, green eyes as their bodies shuddered, entwined together. He loved the feel of her, every little noise she made, and the way she would say his name got him every time. And bringing her pleasure was his new favorite challenge in life. He found several ways to do it, and it gave him a certain amount of pride. Forcing her body to feel more ecstasy than it could bear made him feel very much like a man, especially when she looked at him afterwards. Panting and exhausted, her look would say "you're freaking amazing." Nothing satisfied like that look.

What really amazed him, however, was how much she could rock _his_ world. He certainly wasn't doing all the rocking. Sometimes, the mood would strike her just right, and Grace would shove him onto his back and spend full minutes merely teasing him, barely touching him, and it would drive him mad. And then, just when he couldn't lie still and take it anymore, just when he was ready to wrestle her onto her back, she would lower herself onto him at long last and ride him until his toes curled.

Yes, life was perfect. And that was scary. When one was this high, the only place left to go was down.

* * *

Oswald held Grace's hair as she puked into the toilet. She was puking rather angrily, which would have been kind of funny had she not been so miserable.

"Ugh!" she was finally able to say, "I _hate_ being sick. I couldn't even make it through breakfast."

She had been sick since early that morning, and unfortunately breakfast had not provided any reprieve.

"I know," he said, running a cool rag over her face, "I'm going to call in a doctor."

"Not one of those underground doctors that dig bullets out of people for drug money."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course not. Don't worry. I have someone in mind."

He got her settled in bed again with a glass of ice water within arm's reach, and then slipped out to make the call.

He dialed. The phone rang. Jim answered.

"Hello, Jim. It's Oswald…Funny you should ask. Actually, I'd like to speak to Lee please…That's really none of your business. Just put her on the phone."

 _Note to self: get Lee's cell number._

"Hello, Lee. This is Oswald Cobblepot. I hope you're having a lovely morning…Ah, well my morning hasn't been so lovely, I'm afraid. My wife has been unable to keep anything down and…Yes, wife, that's what I said…Oh yes I do, and she's sick, and I'm worried, so could you please come over?" He looked at the clock on the table. "You wouldn't miss much work. I'll send a car for you…Oh…Well bring her along then. I don't mind…Lee, I'm calling because I trust you. My wife needs to see a doctor…You're the best. I'll see you within the hour."

He hung up.

"Shani," he said as the butler passed by, "Find something to preoccupy a small child. We're about to have company."

* * *

Lee arrived promptly, little Sarah on her hip, and it was obvious that she wanted to get this over with.

"Where is she?" she asked as she came in.

"Grace is in bed," Oswald replied, "If you'll just follow me."

"Okay." To everyone's surprise, she handed Sarah briskly over to Shani. "She's really easy-going; just watch out for your jewelry. Lead the way, Oswald."

He took her as far as the bedroom door, and then she wouldn't let him in, sending him back downstairs feeling a bit disgruntled. Then Shani abruptly put Sarah in his arms.

"Forget it," she said, "I don't do kids."

"Shani…" he pleaded, but she was already gone, leaving him awkwardly holding a two year old girl. He sighed.

 _Okay, fine. This works. I'm finally getting to know Jim's daughter…This is fine._

He carried her to the sitting room and set her down on the floor. "There…Entertain yourself."

He sat down on the couch to watch her. Shani had left a ragged old teddy bear there.

 _God knows where she found that._

He handed it to Sarah.

"Tank you," she said, her little voice surprising him. Her words weren't perfect, but she was talking, which he hadn't expected.

"You're welcome."

"What your name?"

"Oh, I…should've introduced myself." He leaned forward in his seat and extended his hand. "I'm Oswald." Her tiny hand fit between his thumb and forefinger. "I'm a friend of your daddy's."

She thought for a moment. " _What_ your name?"

"Oswald."

"Oswall?"

"Yes, close enough. And you're Sarah."

She held up the teddy bear. "What his name?"

"Anything you like. You can name him."

"Okay. I name him Snowball."

"Snowball? That's a good name. Do you want to play with him?"

She considered for another moment, then dropped the bear. "No."

"No? Then what will you do?"

She approached him and lightly slapped his knees, then held her hands up to him. She wanted to be picked up. That was fairly obvious.

 _…Okay, just keep her happy. Do what she wants._

He helped her up into his lap. She immediately started grabbing at his clothes.

"What that?" She pointed to his chest.

"That's a vest."

"A vess? What that?"

"That's a cuff link. See, I have one on each sleeve." He showed her both of them.

"What that?" She grinned.

"That's a button."

 _I know she's seen a button before._

"You know what a button is. You're just messing with me, aren't you?"

She giggled and hid her face in her hands. Then she pointed again, this time to his forehead.

"What that?"

"That's my face."

"No." She pointed again. "What that?"

"My head?"

" _No_." She touched his forehead then, disturbing the hair that was styled across it. "What _that_?"

" _Oh_." He scoffed. "That's my hair, silly. You know what hair is."

"Why it like that?"

He shrugged. "I fix it that way. I like it. Do you like it?"

Another mischievous giggle. "It looks weird."

"It looks weird?" His voice was teasing. "Surely not."

She laughed harder and nodded.

He put his hand over his heart. "Well, my confidence is shattered. How shall I ever go on knowing Sarah Gordon thinks I look weird?"

Sarah was eating up this little game. Oswald smiled. She was cute.

Suddenly, they heard a crash upstairs. They both looked towards the ceiling.

"What that?" the little girl asked.

"I don't know," he answered absently.

Half a moment later, Shani was entering the room. "I think you better get upstairs, sir."

Oswald set Sarah aside on the couch. "You stay here," he said to the child. Then, heart beginning to pound, he rushed upstairs.

Sobs were coming from his bedroom. When he entered, Grace was curled up on the floor next to the bed, crying. Lee was keeping her distance.

"Grace…" He tried to approach her, but she grabbed a book from the nightstand and threw it at him. He dodged it and turned to Lee, confusion and worry all over his face.

The doctor broke eye contact and started to leave. He followed, catching her just outside the door.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"Listen, I have doctor/patient confidentiality to think about. You'll have to ask her."

She tried to move past him, but he blocked her path.

"I am her husband."

"Ask her."

He pointed to the room. "She is _hysterical_. Tell me why."

She sized him up. "I don't think Jim would like you getting up in my face like this."

He got in her face even more. "Tell me what's going on, Lee. Or Jim isn't going to be able to find you."

She sighed, her face becoming resigned. "She's pregnant."

Oswald blinked. "…What?"

Lee shrugged. "I don't know why she's reacting this way. She's healthy. She should be fine."

An unwelcome lump was forming in his throat. "She's…she's pregnant?"

"Yeah. Can I go now? Where's Sarah?"

He shook his head, feeling dazed. "She's downstairs. She's…" Lee started to move past him again, but he thrust his arm out to block her. "You will tell no one about this. Not even Jim. Do I make myself clear?"

"I won't tell anyone."

He nodded and moved away, letting her go. She quickly disappeared down the hall and Oswald immediately forgot her, turning back to his room. One foot in front of the other, he went back in. This all felt like some kind of out-of-body experience.

"Grace?"

His wife only huddled further into herself, still crying. He stepped closer. She didn't throw anything this time, which he took as a good sign, but she was deeply upset, and something about that hurt.

 _Why does she hate it so much? Is this really such bad news?_

He knelt at her side and put a cautious hand on her back. With a sob, Grace suddenly turned and threw herself into his arms. He was immediately relieved.

 _At least she doesn't hate_ me _._

"I'm sorry," she said, voice shaking, "I'm sorry. It's my fault."

"What? Grace, what are you talking about?"

"I…I missed a pill or something. I screwed up."

"Hey," he said gently, "It's fine."

 _Is it? Is it fine, Oswald?_

"It's fine. Listen…it takes two to tango, yes? _We_ did this, not just you."

"I'm too young," she lamented, "I'm too young. I can't handle this."

Reality was gradually starting to sink in. His hands trembled slightly as he rubbed her back.

 _Don't panic. Not right now. Don't you dare panic in front of her._

"You're not too young," he insisted, "Grace, look at me. You're over eighteen. Okay? Biologically speaking, twenty-two is a great age to have a baby."

 _I'm pretty sure that's right…but health class was ages ago._

Fresh tears sprang to her eyes and she buried her face in his chest. Another lump started forming in his throat, but he took a deep, defiant breath.

 _For the love of God, pull yourself together. She's more terrified than you are._

"We'll figure it out," he said in her ear, "We'll handle it…And you'll make an excellent mother. I'm confident in that much."

She paused and looked into his eyes. "Are you happy?"

 _Am I? What am I feeling? I don't know._

"…You're giving me a family. Of course I'm happy."

The relief that spread across her face lifted a weight from his shoulders.

"You'll make a really great dad," she said.

He couldn't control the tears that came then. They were too sudden. Hearing her say that, and with such sincerity, it was like a dagger in his heart. In a good way. They embraced again, and he stroked her hair lovingly.

 _Yes, I'm happy. I'm happy. This is remarkable. I don't deserve this._

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he said.

 _I could lose you._

Icy fear ran through his veins, mixing painfully with his joy.

 _One mistake, one stray bullet, and I've lost my wife and child._

"It's going to be alright." He was telling himself as well as her. "I'm going to take care of you…You don't have to be afraid."


	20. Chapter 20

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 20**

Being pregnant wasn't…ideal.

Morning sickness hit her pretty hard, and honestly the concept of carrying another life was a little freaky. On the other hand, there were times when she felt almost unbelievable happiness. She would look at her husband, and she would realize that she had another Oswald growing inside of her. And that was amazing. That just blew her mind. It made it all completely worth it. Even if it was scary and life-changing and too much to handle.

She was lying sprawled on the couch in her pajamas when Oswald came home one afternoon. He popped his head into the room and greeted her with an almost suspicious amount of enthusiasm.

"Hello, my dearest love."

"Hey. Where have you been?"

He strolled in, umbrella still in hand. "I got something for you."

She sat up. "Really?"

"Gabe," he called, still smiling.

Gabe came in, a wiggling Corgi puppy in his arms.

Grace lit up. "Oh my God!"

The large man stepped forward and put the puppy in her arms. She squealed in excitement as the little creature started licking her chin.

"He's _precious_." She squealed again. "I love him! Thank you."

"You are more than welcome, dearest. Thank you, Gabe," he said as the man left them alone, "Name him, darling. He's yours."

"Oh, what should I name him?" She looked at the puppy and spoke to him in baby-talk. "What should I name you?"

"I was thinking Reginald myself, but…" Oswald shrugged. "It's your dog."

"What do you think, little Reggie?" Baby-talk again. "Do you like that? Are you a little sir?" The puppy started licking her cheek. "Yes you are." Her voice continued to rise in pitch. "Yes you are."

She looked at Oswald and her voice returned to normal. "His name is Reggie."

He smiled. "I'm glad you like him. I figured you for a dog person."

She grinned and reached out to him. He stepped over and sat on the couch beside her, setting his umbrella aside.

"I love him, Oswald; thank you."

"My pleasure."

"Why'd you get him? Is he baby practice?"

He shrugged, keeping up his smile. "I…suppose he could count as baby practice, yes. I just wanted you to have a companion."

Grace's smile faded a little. "You made that sound ominous."

"Oh, no. No, I meant nothing by it. But he will be good company for you. That's what dogs are for. Man's best friend, you know. Woman's, in this case."

"Oswald?"

"Yes?"

Her smile left her altogether. "Oh my God…This is a bribe puppy. Reggie is a bribe."

"Grace, calm yourself. Reggie is a pet. A lovable companion that you will treasure for years to come. I'm not bribing you."

Her cheeks flushed and tears threatened. "You're still trying to get rid of me."

She could see a hint of irritation come into his eyes, but he hid it well and spoke evenly.

"I've asked you to stop saying that. It's not true. Not in the least. I'm trying to protect you. You're a reasonable person deep down. You have to understand why it's best."

Her face got hot. "Oh, I'm reasonable _deep down_? Well it's good to know I'm at least _capable_ of reason. Nice to know what you really think."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, my God. _Stop_ _that_. You know better. You know how highly I think of you. You're just trying to pick a fight. And seeing that I've just given you a puppy, I think it's unfounded."

"This puppy is to keep me from getting lonely when you send me away. When you ship me off to live without you, _alone_. I can pick a fight if I want." She sniffled and nuzzled Reggie. The little Corgi nipped at her nose.

Oswald scooted closer and put an arm around her shoulders. "I don't like it any more than you do. You're my ray of sunshine…It won't be the same without you here. But I'll visit as often as I can, I swear to you. I know it's not ideal—"

She scoffed. "No, it's not. It's horrible."

He sighed and kissed her temple. "But I'm not taking any chances. Not with our child. This is the safest thing to do."

Her demeanor didn't improve.

"You'll have Shani. Don't forget I'm sending her with you. And now you'll have Reggie."

The pout remained.

"Look at me, Grace."

She looked at him. Her watery green eyes broke his heart, she could tell, but his blue ones only hardened with resolve.

"This is going to happen whether you cooperate or not," he said gently, "But please, I'm asking you to cooperate. As a mother, you need to do what's best…I know you care about this baby's safety as much as I do."

"Of course I do. _Of_ _course_ I do, Oswald. But…" Her voice broke. "…how am I going to do this without you? How am I going to go through all of this without having you with me?"

 _I'm not even sure I can do it at all._

He held her tighter, ignoring the wiggling animal still fighting for attention in her lap. "I'll come to you all the time. Whenever I can. I'll be around, _believe_ me."

She sighed, but offered half a smile.

"And you could seriously take advantage of this situation, you know."

Grace raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

He put a hand over his heart. "I _truly_ feel awful about having to do this. You could ask me for anything, and I would give it to you…You should think about that. You think I spoil you now, but…" He exhaled a laugh. "…really, you ain't seen nothing yet."

"Oh yeah?" She ran a hand down Reggie's back. "Anything?"

"Anything, Grace."

"How about a diamond necklace?"

"Of course."

"With real diamonds."

He scoffed. "Don't insult me."

"And I want lobster every other day."

"Done."

 _Wow, no hesitation. This is fun._

"And Reggie gets a doghouse in the living room."

He smiled and kissed her head again. "Let me know if you come up with any challenging requests."

* * *

 _Okay…so this house is gorgeous._

Oswald had seen to everything. The house was a four hour drive south of Gotham, and it was a ten minute drive to the beach and the nearest small town. It was one storey, but had massive square footage, and it was gated. Very private. Very secure. The inside was beautiful, cozy but airy at the same time. Some of it wasn't entirely furnished, like the nursery, for example, but that would be up to her.

 _I can make this work. I can make this our home._

 _It just won't feel like much of a home without Oswald._

"Shall we have lunch?" asked Shani, "It's lobster."

"Yeah. Come on, Reggie," she called, "Lunchtime. You want some lobster?"

They ate on the patio. Little Reggie pawed at their feet and whined for more scraps as they talked. Grace absently fingered the delicate diamond necklace around her neck.

"So this is nice," Shani offered, "We're basically living on Easy Street here. Someone brings us groceries twice a week. Someone brings lobster every other day." She winked. "We can drive to the beach anytime we want. We have cable. This is the life."

 _She's trying to cheer me up. I really need to act happier._

"Oh yeah, you're so right," she replied, attempted to seem perky, "And Reggie loves it. He'll love growing up here."

 _I suck at acting._

"…He'll be here this weekend. Don't be down. You'll be a terrific bore if you don't cheer up."

Grace couldn't help but smile. She was ridiculously lucky to have Shani. It wasn't like the butler really wanted to be out here either, in the middle of all this pregnancy stuff. She didn't even like kids. The least Grace could do was put on a happy face for her friend. Otherwise, they would both just be miserable.

"Do you think there's a manicure place in town?"

Shani smiled. "Now you're talking."


	21. Chapter 21

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 21**

It was an adjustment. Nothing he couldn't handle, but the distance between himself and his wife was distinctly unpleasant. He could rest easy knowing that she was safe and that the baby was growing out of harm's way, but resting easy wasn't really in the cards when he had to spend so many nights alone. Nevertheless, he carried on, and he maintained a good attitude for Grace's sake. The separation was even harder on her. She longed desperately to share in the nesting experience with him, to involve him in every little thing—the way he really ought to have been involved. And when she reached that stage in her pregnancy when she wanted a lot of sex, he couldn't be there often enough, no matter how many trips he made. It was a trying time.

But, despite the obstacle of their separation, it was also a glorious time. Grace was currently about six months along, and she had grown into the very image of motherhood. There was nothing Oswald adored more than when she would pull him close and place his hands on her belly, anticipating a kick. They shared a closeness in those moments that he never would have imagined possible.

 _Now I_ really _don't understand how my father could have been so unkind to me. Or Grace's father to her. How could you not give all the love in the world to your own child?_

Grace found the concept of motherhood frightening, so Oswald didn't let on how terrified he was of being a father. He would just…do the best he could. And try with all his might to be a better man than his own father had been.

What else could he do?

 _I have so much more in life than I ever thought I would. Power_ and _family. The power…I deserve that. But my family—I would give up everything else for them._

 _So there it is. That's my weakness. That's what I will always love most…But I will do right by my son or daughter, even if it does kill me._

He woke up that morning in a fairly good mood. He would be going down to see Grace that day, and together they would go to the appointment which would reveal whether the baby was a boy or a girl, having put it off until this point. Grace had wanted to be surprised when he or she was born, but had recently changed her mind.

A little miss or a little mister. That was the question. And the anticipation was killing him.

So naturally that would be the day he and Gabe were swarmed by police just as they were about to leave. That would be just the time for an overzealous officer to slam Oswald's nose into the car as he was cuffed. That would be the point in time to throw him into that same cramped cell in the middle of the precinct that he had occupied before—with Gabe, no less—back when he still worked for Maroni. Yes, today was that day. _Fantastic_.

But what had really stunned him was the reason for it all. He hadn't been able to believe his ears when they had first started to cuff him. "Oswald Cobblepot, you are under arrest for the murder of Grace Ackerman."

It was the most absurd thing he had heard in his life.

But no, it was true. That was what they were bringing him in for, as preposterous as it was. On the one hand, this was good. It meant he had hidden her so well, people were actually starting to suspect that she was dead. On the other hand, there was no evidence whatsoever. The charges were certainly trumped up.

Jim Gordon knew it. Oswald could see it in the somber man's eyes when he came to his cell door.

"Did you do it?" the detective asked, straight-faced.

He rolled his eyes. "What? Kill the love of my life? Of course not, Jim. You know I don't do that sort of thing."

Jim sighed. "Well they needed something on you, and this gives them an excuse to dig into your affairs. You're a trophy in here. Every up-and-comer wants to be the one who bagged the Penguin."

"Flattery will get you nowhere with me today, old friend. Let me out. I have places to be."

"I can't. I've tried. There's nothing I can do."

"Have you tried grabbing the keys and unlocking this door?"

"It has to go to trial. Unless you can prove that Grace is alive." He shrugged. "Sorry."

 _I can't so much as call her. They might trace her location. I'd go to jail before letting these moronic cops find her._

"Well you're just no help at all."

Jim started to walk away, but Oswald grabbed the bars and called after him.

"Jim! Jim, wait. Grace is alive. I know you believe me. Please. Please, you have to get me out of here. I have somewhere very important to be."

"Where?"

He shook his head helplessly. "I can't tell you."

"Then I can't help you."

Oswald pulled himself away from the bars, scowling but silent.

 _Fine, damn it. I'll stay in here if I have to, but I'm not giving Grace away._

He sat down next to Gabe and ran his hand over his face.

 _I just won't find out today. She'll go to the appointment without me. Maybe._

"Don't worry, boss," Gabe tried, "They don't got a thing on you."

"That's not stopping them from holding me, is it?"

The larger man paused. "Bottom line, they don't know where she is, right? Nobody does. So we win."

Oswald smiled to himself. "Well said, Gabriel."

* * *

They were in there all day, and almost no attention was paid to them. The stress of the situation aside, Oswald found himself incredibly bored. There was nothing to do in an eight-by-nine cell with only Gabe for intellectual company. So he retreated into his mind, trying mostly to concentrate on Grace.

He was dozing against the wall, daydreaming about her, when the sound of an air horn nearly startled him out of his seat. The precinct went quiet and all eyes turned to the source of the noise near the doors. A tall, mocha-skinned woman had blown the horn, and the ensuing silence was quickly followed by the voice of a young, blonde, pregnant woman.

 _Oh my God._

"Hello, everybody!" she said, "My name is Grace Cobblepot. Just wanted to let you know I'm super-duper alive."

 _What is she doing?_

Oswald almost tripped over himself as he rushed to the bars of his cell.

"Grace!"

She grinned and began maneuvering through the desks towards him. Instantly, they were reaching through the bars to hold each other as best they could.

He very nearly couldn't contain how happy he was to see her.

"Grace…what the _hell_ are you doing here?"

But this was still the most dangerous thing she could have done, and he wasn't okay with it.

He kissed her forehead. "Explain yourself," he said sternly.

"Victor was close when you got arrested, and he called Shani." She looked past him for a second and smiled. "Hi, Gabe."

"How you doing, Mrs. C?" Gabe responded fondly.

"Grace…I'm not happy about this. Your heart may have been in the right place, but I wish you hadn't come." He pointed an accusing finger at Shani. "And _you're_ in trouble."

Grace sighed. "I figured you'd say that. Sorry. But I had to. And don't blame Shani. I made her bring me." She turned and addressed the general crowd. "Could someone unlock this please?"

Harvey Bullock stepped up, looking not exactly pleased. "Hey, Grace," he greeted nonchalantly.

"Hey, Detective."

"Oswald," he said, turning the key in the lock, "You're the luckiest SOB I've ever met."

Oswald gave a tired smile as the cell door opened. "Thanks, Harvey."

"But we'll get you next time. You can count on it."

"I look forward to watching you try."

The day was turning around, but Grace was still in a high-risk situation as far as he was concerned. It was time to go.

"Shani, take Grace back to the car."

Grace frowned. "Aren't you coming?"

"Of course, dearest. I'll be along in a minute. I just have to sign a couple things."

They both looked to Harvey. "Yeah, he does," the bearded detective agreed.

"Fine," she acquiesced, "but hurry. I have something to tell you." She smirked and turned to go.

 _She knows. She went to the appointment._

Excitement started to bubble up in his chest as he watched her go. When she was gone, he turned back to Harvey. The older detective was watching her go as well, a look of some distaste clouding his features.

"What? What is that face?"

"I don't like it."

"…You don't like it. Like what?"

He gestured in the direction Grace had gone. "This whole… _thing_ with you two." He shuddered and turned to his desk, finding the form Oswald needed to sign.

"You've piqued my interest, Harvey," he said, stepping over to the desk, "To what _thing_ are you referring?" He picked up a pen and looked at the paper.

Harvey didn't answer.

Oswald started to sign. "Do pregnant women make you uncomfortable?"

"Hey, whoa. I'm not talking about this. _Especially_ not with you."

He smiled to himself, having just thought of something. "Oh I know what it is." A mischievous glint came into his eyes and he looked up from the form. "You can't imagine me having sex."

The shock on the detective's face was more than satisfying.

"You know what? No. You're right. You can't. In my mind, you're like a Ken doll. And that's the way it stays." He snatched the form. "Gimme that. Get the hell out of here."

Oswald laughed to himself all the way to the car. Getting Harvey so flustered was almost enough to make his day. But it was his anticipation for speaking with Grace that really had him excited. As quickly as his limp would allow, he made it to the car, and his wife was kissing him as soon as he took his seat beside her.

"Okay," he said between kisses, "Come on…The suspense is killing me. What is it? I know you know."

She grinned, but remained silent for a few more seconds, increasing the suspense.

"Okay…Oswald…" She took his hand.

He raised his eyebrows. "Yes?"

 _Spit it out._

"…It's a boy."

Oswald let out a breath. "A boy?"

Her grin got bigger. "Yeah. A boy. Isn't that awesome?"

 _I'll have a son._

"It's splendid." He took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead.

 _A son of my own._

"A miniature Oswald Cobblepot," Grace said dreamily.

 _The Cobblepot name will not die with me._

"Are you sure that's really the name you like?"

"It's the only name I like. He has to be named after you."

 _Don't cry, Oswald. Keep it together._

He kissed her hand, grinning. "If you insist, my love." He flipped the switch that brought down the divider between the front and back seats. "Did you all hear the news?"

Shani turned her head and smiled, but didn't take her eyes off the road. "Yeah, boss. Congratulations. I told Gabe once we started driving."

"Congrats, Mrs. C. I had a feeling it would turn out a boy."

"We're having a party, just so you two know," Shani added, "I'm going to buy every blue decoration this side of Metropolis."

"Oh my God," Grace commented.

Oswald was overwhelmed. With joy and fear. With delight and doubt.

 _How long can I keep up this good luck? How many of these blessings will last? Can I really be a husband, a father,_ and _the king of Gotham?_

* * *

Oswald was there when it happened. It was pouring rain that night at their house near the beach. Looking back, it had been the ideal sort of weather for bringing another Oswald Cobblepot into the world. At the time of the event, however, it could have been hailing frogs outside and he wouldn't have noticed.

The doctor had come to them, just as he'd arranged, but the man had neglected to bring the drugs necessary to ease Grace's pain, and so Oswald had to listen to her scream. He stayed with her, he encouraged her, but he came close to fainting more times than he cared to acknowledge. He could kill people, torture people even, without batting an eye, and yet this whole process made him want to curl up in a corner and cover his ears.

"I'm never doing this again," Grace had said firmly at one point.

He had nodded eagerly in agreement and kissed her hand. "Oh no, I'm never putting you through this again. Don't worry."

The agony of the evening finally did come to an end, however, and the doctor mentioned that it had been a quick and easy delivery. Oswald felt like shooting him in the foot.

That feeling was overshadowed, though, by the confusing amount of other feelings which arose when his son was placed into Grace's arms. With caution, he nestled himself at her side, his arm around her, and together they looked down at their baby. Oswald Cobblepot II had a tuft of black hair atop his head and a face just like his mother. And his father's heart melted into a puddle of eternal love and dedication at the sight of him.

Delicately, he cradled the child's soft, perfect head with one hand. "You will be a great man someday," he said, "You'll have every advantage. I'll see to that. And everything I make in this world, I'll pass to you."

"That's a lot," Grace said weakly, smiling.

His attention turned back to the woman who had given him all of this. He kissed her head. "He's perfect, dearest. He's beautiful. Well done. I love you. I love you both."

She looked at her baby, then looked back at him, still smiling. "We love you, too."

* * *

 **Beloved readers :)**

 **Again, I'd like to express my appreciation for your interest in my story. Every comment, follow, and favorite makes my heart sing.**

 **Phoebe, I'm so glad that you found my little funny parts amusing. I'd hoped that I could make some of you laugh every once in a while. I've very much enjoyed your lengthy comments. And believe me, I understand what it's like to have a bunch of essays to write and that sort of thing. I'm happy that my story is giving you something to enjoy whenever you have the time. Thank you for your suggestions regarding Victor and Shani. I'll refer back to them whenever the time comes for me to write their story.**

 **Crimsoneyes419, I'd like to extend my appreciation to you as well, as you've recently become my most frequent reviewer. As for your point that Lee was out of character in bringing Sarah to Oswald's home, I'm afraid I must respectfully disagree. I think of Lee as a very "I do what I want" sort of character. Perhaps it was careless on her part, but she's not perfect, and whether Jim knew about it or not, he can't really control her. In any case, I hope it didn't bother you enough to take away the fun of the chapter. Please continue to enjoy.**

 **A shout-out to AmalieNico and scorpion22 as well. Thank you for the frequent and very kind reviews.**

 **All my love.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 22**

Time. Freaking. Flew.

She gave birth to her son, and then life just went full-throttle. Between ruling Gotham and having a family, Grace was cradling a baby one minute and running after a six year old the next. It went by in a _blink_. But it was seriously the best time of her life. She had never imagined that she would like being a mother so much. And, as unbelievable as it was sometimes, she and Oswald managed to balance the business and the family pretty well. After a few years of practice.

They were spending the evening at _Oswald's_. The club wasn't open much these days, but they had decided to have dinner and spend the night there. Grace sipped at a glass of white wine and finished off a slice of lemon tart as she watched big and little Oswald on stage at the piano. It was the cutest thing she had ever seen. They were wearing matching suits and playing Chopsticks. And when they finished, they stood and bowed together.

She rose and applauded enthusiastically. "Bravo! Bravo! Oh my God, a _triumph_!"

There was a knock at the door just then. Which was odd. Brow furrowed, Grace glanced towards the entrance. She could see Jim outside.

 _Huh._

She stepped over and unlocked the door. "Hey, Jim. What are you doing here?"

"I came to see Oswald, actually…For a favor."

 _Oh geez._

Grace sighed and shrugged. "Well come on in, I guess. Can I get you a drink?"

"No, thanks."

Oswald, still on stage, smiled when he saw who it was. "Jim." He started to come down, his son at his heels. "This is a surprise. Welcome. Say hello, Ozzie."

"Hello," said Ozzie.

"So what's the favor, Jim?" Grace didn't really care to be all buddy-buddy with him like her husband did. She found him unpleasant.

"Can we speak privately?" he asked Oswald.

The Penguin shrugged. "No need."

"Are you Sarah's dad?" Ozzie asked.

Jim was caught off guard, but forced a smile. "Yes."

"I know her from school. She's older than me, but she's nice to me at recess."

 _And cue that mischievous twinkle in Oswald's eye._

"You know," he said, "I'd be more than happy to host a playdate."

Ozzie's face lit up.

Jim looked horrified.

 _And that's why I don't like you, Jim._

"Anything to nurture the spirit of friendship," Oswald continued.

"Uh, we can think about that another time. Right now, I really need to talk business."

 _Smooth save, Detective._

"Well alright." Oswald folded his hands.

Grace smiled at her son as he copied his dad, looking up expectantly at Jim.

"How can I help you, Detective Gordon?"

"What do you know about Bartholomew Masterson?"

The Penguin shrugged. "I've met him. He struck me as a…rat-like gentleman. But he's making his way as a gambler, as I understand it. Why?"

"He knows something about a case."

"Ah, you must mean the Baxter case. A tragic thing, that. Nasty business."

Jim almost asked how he knew about that, but gave up before the words left his mouth. "I need someone who can get close to Masterson. Ask the right questions."

"Hmm…Actually, I think you'll want to talk to Grace about this one, Jim. Dearest, aren't you friends with his mistress?"

"Like, _best_ friends." She smirked. "Have a drink with me, Jim."

Jim followed as she returned to her table and her wine.

"What's a mistress?" asked Ozzie, looking up at his dad.

Grace stifled a laugh and shot a pitying look back at her husband.

Oswald returned her look with an unhappy smirk. "We'll…discuss that later, Ozzie. But right now, I think Reggie needs some company, don't you? He's still locked in the bedroom upstairs."

 _Not a bad dodge, Oswald, but he won't forget for long._

As Ozzie scampered up the stairs to see to the dog, Oswald poured a drink for Jim and set it down in front of him. "I'll be upstairs," he said, then leaned over and kissed the top of Grace's head, "Let me know if you need anything."

She nodded and smiled, and then she was left alone with the detective.

"So, Jim, what brings you back, scratching once again at my husband's door?"

He cleared his throat. "So you know Masterson's mistress?"

"She's a good friend."

"Well, good…"

"Which is why I don't really feel like getting her in trouble."

He leaned forward. "Look, a girl and a boy are dead. They were both young. And the psycho who did it is still walking the streets. Whose kid will be next if we don't stop him?"

Grace absently twisted her wedding ring, thinking it over. "What exactly do you want to find out from Masterson?"

"We think he knows the man who did it. At the very least, I need the name."

"…I could invite her out to lunch. Have a little girl-talk. He likes it when we hang out. He thinks if she's friends with me, I'll put in a good word for him with Oswald."

"Then getting the name shouldn't be a problem."

"Well, no. But don't expect me to just do this out of the goodness of my heart. This is a very nice favor I'm pulling for you. So what are you gonna do for me?"

"I'll owe you a favor."

She chuckled. "Oh, no no. I'm not my husband, Jim. I don't like you enough to go for that."

"Then what do you want?"

She leaned forward. "Ozzie gets a playdate with Sarah."

 _Yeah, that's right. Squirm._

He didn't answer right away.

"Oh, come on, Jim. It would actually be a nice time if you weren't such a snob about it. We could all have dinner and hang out while the kids played. Where's the harm in that? They're babies. It's not like they're gonna get married."

Jim winced as he took a drink. "Listen, I just don't know if I'm comfortable bringing Sarah to the home of the biggest crime boss in Gotham for a _playdate_. Surely you can understand."

"Well, that's how the cookie crumbles, Jim. No playdate, no name. Don't waste my time."

The strain it took for him to answer was actually amusing. "…Fine."

"Awesome. We can do it next week. I'll call Cynthia tomorrow."

* * *

Getting the name was easy. Grace had a nice, relaxing lunch with her friend and told her to tell Masterson that the Penguin wanted to see him. Naturally, Masterson jumped on it, and Oswald was happy to play along. All he had to do was promise the guy a one-time interest-free loan, and he had the name within two seconds.

Boom. Done. The playdate was on Friday.

The grinning, spunky, nine year old Sarah Gordon arrived with her parents right on time and immediately ran off with Ozzie to his room. Grace had left a ton of snacks in there, so they wouldn't go hungry while they played. Meanwhile, the adults sat down to seafood pasta and a couple bottles of wine. It would have been so nice had the company been more pleasant.

"So I heard you solved the case," Oswald offered with a smile, pouring himself a glass.

"We did. I'm sure you saw it in the papers," Jim answered.

"Oh yes. A job well done." He raised his glass. "I drink to our success."

Lee furrowed her brow. "What does he mean, Jim?"

"What?"

" _Our_ success. What does he mean?"

"He means we helped him out," Grace answered, "Didn't he tell you? He'd still be searching for a name if it wasn't for my contact."

Lee frowned at Jim. "I thought we were past favors. You told me you wouldn't do that anymore."

"Don't be too upset with him, Lee," said Oswald, "Jim always does whatever it takes to catch his man." He shrugged. "Old habits die hard."

"So that's where this playdate idea came from," she continued, "That was the favor."

"Lee…" Grace interjected, "I can tell you're a little mad about this. Obviously, you and Jim will want to talk later. But, well, you're being kind of rude. I mean, we are hosting and being super nice to you. And we love Sarah, for all the two times we've seen her. So how about we just finish dinner and chill out?"

There was a pause as everyone at the table absorbed what she'd just said. The men just looked sort of apprehensive. Lee, however, seemed to be getting madder. She raised a finger.

 _Oh, here it comes. The bitch-fest._

"You don't ever see Sarah because we keep her away from you. We're at a murderer's house, and _I'm_ being called rude. This is crazy." She gestured between Jim and Oswald. "I really don't see why this twisted friendship between you two is still going on. It's toxic. None of us like each other. We're on opposite sides of the law. We shouldn't be associating with you at all." She held up her hands. "That's just…what I think. I'm just putting it out there."

Grace raised her eyebrows and shared a look with Oswald. Then she raised her own finger.

"Um, you're not better than us, Lee. Jim embraced the dark, rule-bending side of the law years ago. He kills people all the time, so give me a break. And you, acting all prim and sensible all the time, you're a straight-up bitch. Who shouldn't be so stuck up, by the way, for someone who got married because you were knocked up."

The tension in the air was palpable.

"…There's pie in the fridge, if anybody's interested," Oswald said.

"Jim, go get Sarah." Lee rose from the table. "We're leaving."

Oswald looked disappointed.

 _…Maybe I shouldn't have escalated things_ quite _so much._

Grace took a gulp of wine.

 _The babies didn't get much playtime._

Just then, the kids came running in, Reggie waddling in behind them.

"Daddy," said Sarah, "Dad, Ozzie's teaching me Judo. Look." She posed and kicked.

"Well, that's very exciting," Jim replied, putting on a smile.

Oswald beamed. "We're all learning Judo together, aren't we, Ozzie? Show them your routine."

The adults patiently watched as the little boy did a series of kicks and punches, all in a precise and practiced order. Sarah did her best to copy him. Grace's heart swelled with pride. She glanced over at Lee. The older woman seemed to have softened at least a little.

 _How could she not? Ozzie's adorable._

"Very good. Well done." Oswald was certainly the peppy one at the table. "And you're already showing talent, Sarah." He crossed his arms, his tone playful. "Would our champions like some pie?"

"Yeah!" shouted Ozzie.

"What kind?" asked Sarah.

"Apple."

She frowned slightly. "I don't really like apple."

Oswald leaned forward. "What's your favorite kind of pie?"

 _He is so good with kids._

"Chocolate."

He smirked. "I could have guessed. Well Sarah, I can have a chocolate pie here in half an hour. What do you say to that?"

 _I am so freaking in love with him._

Her little face lit up. "Yay!"

"Yay indeed. You two go on and keep playing. I'll go make the call. Grace." He beckoned for her to follow him.

 _…I think I'm in trouble._

He led her into the kitchen and picked up the phone, smiling and holding up a finger for her to wait.

 _Yep. So in trouble._

"Get a chocolate pie to my house in thirty minutes…Yes yes. Oh, and pick up some cranberry juice while you're at it. But focus on the pie. I need it now."

He hung up the phone. There was a slightly ominous pause as they looked at each other.

"…Sweet of you to remember the cranberry juice I wanted," she said, trying to keep things friendly.

"Grace…" He stepped closer, cornering her against the cabinet.

"Okay, I know. I shouldn't have called her a bitch. I couldn't help it. I just got tired of—"

She was surprised when he cut her off with a kiss, his hand grasping rather forcefully at her bottom. She moaned involuntarily.

"Damn you; I've never been so turned on in my life," he said in a low voice.

She attempted to catch her breath. "You're not mad?"

"No." He pressed her close, hands roaming. "She was asking for it. I love it when you get feisty."

"Oh…" She shuddered. "Quit it. You're turning _me_ on now."

With some restraint, he pried himself away and sighed. "Sadly, we do have a problem. We can't have them storming off with Ozzie's little friend now can we?"

She shook her head.

"So, though it pains me to say it, no more losing your temper. However bitchy they wish to be, just make the sacrifice for Ozzie."

She nodded again.

"And then…" He kissed her neck. "…you can take out all your frustrations on me afterwards." Another kiss. "Because I _will_ have you tonight. There's no getting around it."

Grace practically purred. "Who says I want to get around it?"

She kissed his neck then, which he relished in for a few seconds before pushing her away.

"Alright, stop it," he said, straightening himself, "We have company."

* * *

 **A small author's note:**

 **Though of course I've tried to be as true as possible to the young Oswald Cobblepot on** _ **Gotham**_ **, I've also added a few hints of the original Penguin from other source materials, and I wanted you all to know that he does indeed know Judo. So, though it might not exactly seem like his kind of thing, I did not just make that up.**

 **Just in case you were wondering.**

 **All my love.**


	23. Chapter 23

**Saving Grace**

 **Chapter 23**

He had screwed up. There was no one to blame but himself. He'd gotten comfortable, less cautious. And now he was facing the consequences. It was as simple as that. That was how he found himself in prison, looking at two years of bad food and stupid orange jumpsuits. And his lawyers had the audacity to say he was lucky to be doing just two years. Granted, it wasn't such an uncommon thing for even the most powerful bosses to serve a little time now and then. Even Falcone had spent a few of his younger years locked away. The risk was part of the job, just like anything else.

But it hurt, it hurt like hell, knowing that he was going to miss two whole years of his little boy's life. And Grace…sweet, adoring, delicious Grace. How was he going to survive their separation? His sentence had started nearly two months ago, and already he was losing his mind.

 _Oh but I'll muddle along somehow. I always do._

Grace came to visit him that day. He sat down at the row of telephones and picked up the receiver. His darling angel wife sat on the other side of the glass.

"Hello, dearest." He tried to put on a smile.

She didn't attempt to smile back. Her eyes were nervous, worried. "Oh Oswald, are you okay in there? Are they treating you okay?"

"It's fine, sweetheart. Trust me; I can take care of myself. You don't need to worry."

"Um…" She looked like she would burst into tears any second. "There's something I need to tell you."

"What's wrong?" A million horrible scenarios started coming to his mind.

A tear slid down her cheek. "…Oswald, I'm pregnant." More tears followed.

His heart lifted initially, and then sank when he remembered the glass between them. A lump formed in his throat immediately. "You are?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

He swallowed. "I've been in here for two months."

"I'm two months pregnant."

He exhaled a laugh, a tear sliding down his own cheek. "That's wonderful."

 _Is there some way I could break this glass?_

"How is it wonderful when you're in there?"

She touched the glass. He put his hand where hers was, noticing the glaring absence of his own wedding ring.

"A baby is always wonderful, Grace."

 _I'm going to miss this one. I won't be there. For any of it._

His heart sank into the concrete floor beneath him.

"What are we going to do?" she asked desperately.

He sniffled. "Listen to me…Take Ozzie to the house he was born in. And you stay there until this one is born. Do you understand? Do not come back to Gotham. Not to visit me. Not for anything."

"Please, no. I have to see you. I can't—"

"Yes, you can, and I insist that you do. This is how we handle it, Grace. We protect the baby."

Her precious green eyes were pleading with him. "Oswald…please."

"Do as I say…Leave the rest to me. Okay?" His eyes begged her to understand. "Don't give up on me."

Reluctantly, she nodded. "I love you."

They were both fully in tears at this point.

"I love you, too."

* * *

"Okay, people," the commissioner addressed the room, "Oswald Cobblepot, aka the Penguin, is at large. And given how hard it was to lock him up in the first place, you all understand how important it is that we find him, and find him fast."

The head of security at the Gotham penitentiary was brought into the precinct to explain some of the details of the escape.

"Prisoner 209," the woman said, pulling up a picture of his mugshot, "Oswald Cobblepot, escaped custody last night at roughly nineteen hundred hours, having served only ten months of his two year sentence. Up until that point, he was essentially the perfect inmate. Well-behaved. No trouble. It was his constant petition to be released early on good behavior. He spoke with his lawyers often."

"Have we contacted these lawyers?" asked Harvey.

"As of right now, they're not answering their phones," said the commissioner.

"Of course not," said Harvey, leaning back in his chair and looking up at Jim, who stood at his side.

Jim remained silent, listening intently.

"Now, when I say Cobblepot was the perfect inmate," the security officer continued, "I don't mean he literally followed every rule. He quickly ingrained himself into the prison culture, making deals and manipulating others to serve his purposes."

"That's the Oswald we know," Jim commented.

"The one thing he never was, however, was violent. He gave no indication that he was even capable of defending himself. So it was no surprise that he worked to gain the loyalty of a couple of the bigger inmates."

She pulled up a picture of two more mugshots.

"Andy Smith and Steve Lander. They became pretty faithful to Cobblepot. They were his protection. From everybody except…" Another mugshot. "…this man. Tony Romanov. The prisoner all prisoners feared. He was basically the alpha male of the entire group, and he was _very_ violent."

"You're talking about him in past tense," said Jim, "Is he—?"

"I'm getting to that. Anyway, it became a source of fun for Romanov to target Cobblepot. Sometimes he would beat him up, sometimes he would steal his food, and every other day, like clockwork almost, he would drag Cobblepot into his cell and give him, for lack of a better word, a swirly in his toilet. Romanov found it hilarious, and no amount of punishment or solitary confinement could break him of it."

Harvey stifled a chuckle and cleared his throat.

"What we didn't realize until yesterday was that Cobblepot was merely _allowing_ Romanov to toy with him. Look at this security footage from last night, just before the escape."

A black and white video began. Jim watched a large, brutish man dragging his small, pitiful victim towards the toilet at the back of his cell. Oswald was begging and shaking; it reminded Jim of when he had pulled him out of that trunk to shoot him years ago. And then, it was like a switch had been flipped. Suddenly, Oswald had broken Romanov's nose and forced him onto his knees with a sharp twist of the arm.

Jim remembered Oswald's words at that miserable dinner.

 _We're all learning Judo together, aren't we, Ozzie?_

He sighed. He should've paid more attention to that comment. It was certainly relevant now. This footage revealed a high level of skill on Oswald's part.

Harvey let out a surprised laugh. "Oh my God, he's kicking his ass," he said incredulously.

"And this wasn't just to disable Romanov. There was a lot of anger in this attack, as you can see." She pulled up a picture of the big man in a hospital bed, hooked up to a bunch of tubes and monitors. "He's currently in critical condition. We're actually not sure if he'll make it at this point."

She seemed to pause for effect. If Jim hadn't known any better, he would have thought this security officer seemed… _impressed_ with her escapee.

"But back to the matter at hand." She rolled more footage. "Cobblepot made a show of his victory to the other inmates, and he had no trouble stirring them up. Before we could get to him, we had a full-blown riot on our hands."

"But prisons are designed to handle riots," a younger detective pointed out, "How did he get out just by stirring up the other inmates?"

"He didn't _just_ stir up the other inmates. There was nothing spontaneous about any of this. Cobblepot had managed to steal a key, and by then he had learned how to time our cameras. There was a glitch in our system. We still don't know how he knew about it. I'm ashamed to say it was practically a matter of walking out the front door for him. He disabled a couple officers, grabbed his confiscated possessions, and got outside. Then he jumped into a car. We've identified the driver as Shani Boyega, a well-known associate of his."

"She's his butler," Jim added.

"So that's the story, everyone. It's all a little embarrassing, but there you have it."

The commissioner spoke up again. "His motive is no secret. Two months into his sentence, Cobblepot's wife revealed to him that she was pregnant, and then she disappeared. It would be about time for her to give birth now, and I don't think that's a coincidence. We find where she's having that baby, I guarantee we'll find our guy. Let's go people. Chop chop.

Jim sighed inwardly. As much as he hated to admit it, he felt like he understood what was going through Oswald's head. If he had been in the same situation, separated from Lee just as Sarah was being born, he probably would have tried the same sort of thing.

But, when it came right down to it, Oswald's motives didn't change anything. He had to be caught. Jim picked up the phone.

* * *

It had been a hell of a day, and a hell of a drive, but Jim made it. He pulled his car up to the Penguin's secret nest and hopped the gate. His hand on his gun, he entered the house. All was dark and quiet. Not knowing what to expect, he stepped carefully down the hall. He looked into the first bedroom. Ozzie was sound asleep in his bed. Jim kept moving. The bedroom at the end of the hall was next.

As silently as he could, he opened the door. He couldn't see very well, but the moonlight coming through the window was enough to make out the figures on the bed. Oswald, Grace, and the sleeping newborn in her arms.

The newborn was the only one sleeping.

Grace stared at him wide-eyed.

Oswald had a pistol trained on his heart.

"Jim?" Oswald looked confused, but he didn't pretend to be pleased to see him.

He held up his hands slowly. "Oswald…"

"How did you find this place?" He kept his voice low, but he was decidedly _not_ happy.

"It was hard, believe me…Put the gun down."

"No." Oswald got out of bed, the gun still aimed at Jim. "You're here to take me back."

There was no point in lying. "Yes."

"Don't be a fool, Jim. You have to know I'm not going."

"Listen to me. I'm the only one who knows where you are right now. Come quietly, and we won't have to put your family through an extraction."

"Jim, my daughter has been in this world mere hours. I expect you to understand. I'm not leaving, and I'm not negotiating. Now put your gun on the floor, gently, and kick it over."

"Oswald…"

"I will kill you, Jim. I'm not playing. Do as I say."

Jim sighed and removed his gun, sliding it across the floor. Oswald picked it up and put it in the nightstand drawer.

"What are we going to do?" Grace asked quietly, "Do we need to move?"

Oswald didn't look away from Jim, but he spoke gently to his wife. "No, dearest. I don't want to move you."

"So what are we going to do then, Oswald?" Jim asked, hands still raised.

The Penguin stepped closer. "If you think you've done me a favor by coming alone, don't flatter yourself. Your presence is a headache I could have lived without. In fact, I'm tempted to just kill you," he snarled, "It would _certainly_ be easier."

"Not here, baby," Grace said softly.

"You don't have to kill me," said Jim, actually starting to feel nervous, "I came alone, in good faith, for Grace's sake. We can work something out."

"Well I can't let you go." He gave an exasperated sigh. "You've really made a mess of things."

He brought the butt of the gun across his jaw, and Jim dropped to the floor.

* * *

Oswald kept Jim in a basement for six weeks. It was that or kill him, and, call him sentimental, but he couldn't quite bring himself to off his old friend.

Although he was pretty sure the friendship was dissolved after this.

After six weeks, he felt confident that Grace had healed and recovered enough, and that the baby was healthy enough, for the family to be moved. It was rather sad to leave that particular safe-house near the beach, the place where both of his children had been born, knowing they would never go back. But it was found out. The move had to be made.

So, they packed up and made the drive to the old Maroni cabin, and Jim was released and left to his own devices in the middle of the small beach town they had left behind. Oswald then wasted no time getting a new and better lawyer on the phone.

"Hello, Mr. Dent."

"Who is this?"

"This is Oswald Cobblepot. How are you?"

"How did you get this number?"

"Oh well, I admit my prison time and recent absence from home has put me at a bit of a disadvantage. But I assure you, I'm still the most connected man in Gotham." He chuckled. "A phone number really isn't a big deal."

"What do you want?"

"First, how are you feeling? I know you came close to a breakdown recently. Recovering alright? No stress?"

"Well, I'm stressed now."

"Oh no, Harvey, don't be. I call as a friend. Actually, I'm interested in hiring you. I'm in need of new representation, as you can imagine."

There was silence on the other end.

"Believe me when I say I'd make it worth your while…Would you be interested in accessing a few of my resources?"

"I don't make deals with scum like you."

"Tsk tsk. Rude." Oswald paused, a devious smile forming. "May I speak to the other Harvey please?"


	24. Chapter 24

**Saving Grace**

 **Epilogue, Part I**

 **Seven Years Later**

Oswald was just about to indulge in a strong, much-needed brandy. The glass was almost to his lips.

And then it was like every person in his house was suddenly yelling. He sighed and closed his eyes, lowering the glass. He could just picture what was happening in the next room.

His seven year old daughter had done something to annoy his fourteen year old son, who had then said something hurtful in retaliation. And then she had hit him and he was probably bleeding now.

Teenage footsteps approached.

 _And cue Ozzie._

His lip was busted. "Dad, could you control your youngest please?"

Oswald set aside his alcohol, untouched. "What did she do?"

"You mean before she physically assaulted me? Well, for starters, she's a sneak thief."

The little perpetrator stuck her head around the corner just then, scowling.

Oswald sighed. "Okay, calm yourself," he said firmly, "Who leads? Who gets taken seriously?"

Ozzie gave a frustrated sigh. "Those who remain calm."

"Good." He shifted in his chair. "Run along upstairs and deal with your injuries. If you're still mad, talk to your mother. I'll talk to your sister."

He shooed Ozzie out and then met the icy gaze of his little girl.

"Come here, Avis." He waved her in.

She approached him, still scowling. When Oswald looked into his son's eyes, he saw Grace. With his daughter, however, it was like looking into a mirror.

"Shall we talk in English this time? Daddy's had a long day."

She shook her head. "Mon frère est un idiot."

 _It's the quirkiest thing I've ever seen._

He tsked and wagged his finger. "Non, petite madame. C'est faux, tu sais."

 _She speaks French when she's upset. Who does that?_

"Il est méchant."

 _…Did she just say her brother is wicked? God, she's getting too fluent. I'm actually going to have to start studying again._

"Avis, arrêtez. Écoute moi. Ton frère est ton ami. Toujours. Ta famille est ta vie. Oui?" He raised his eyebrows. "Comprenez vous?"

Avis gave a reluctant nod.

"Okay, I'm switching to English again, sweetheart. Now listen." He took her hands. "I couldn't help but notice Ozzie's lip."

She broke eye contact.

 _You guilty little thing._

He tapped her head. "We don't do that to each other, Avis. We do that to the people who threaten us. We protect each other. Yes?"

She nodded, then started to cry. "Ozzie's still mean to me," she lamented, leaning into him.

He immediately pulled her into his lap, running a hand over the hair that was as black as his. "My poor little baby," he murmured, "It's okay."

It was about this time that Ozzie returned, looking sullen, but no longer angry. Grace was at his heels, and Oswald could see that her relaxation had also been interrupted. She leaned against the doorpost with her arms crossed, watching.

"Well, go on," she said.

Ozzie sighed. "I'm sorry for excluding you, Avis," he said none too enthusiastically, "I didn't realize you wanted my attention badly enough to punch me in the face."

Oswald smirked and nudged his daughter. "Alright. You punched him in the face. Say you're sorry."

"Désolé," she muttered.

"Hey. English please. Be sincere."

Avis sighed and looked at her big brother. "Sorry."

"That's better," said Grace, "Now hug each other."

"Mom," the boy fussed.

" _Oswald_ ," she said sharply.

She was referring to Ozzie, but Oswald jumped a little.

Ozzie sighed again and opened his arms. Avis, encouraged by her father's nudging, stood and accepted the embrace.

"There now." Grace smiled. "It's all good. We all love each other. Time for bed."

She made a kissy-face at her husband as she ushered the children from the room, leaving Oswald to his brandy once more. He ran his hand over his face, feeling even more tired now, but the corners of his mouth edged upwards.

 _Nothing but trouble, the lot of them._

Directly after the first sip of his nightcap, Michael entered the room. Which was wholly unexpected. The former bartender had risen in Oswald's ranks over the years, and he considered him a trusted associate and friend.

 _But what is he doing in my house?_

"Good evening, sir."

"…Did Shani give you a key?"

"Oh, yes. Sorry to disturb you. I just, I have some news."

"Well, what is it?" Oswald took another drink.

"The shipment failed." He winced.

The boss furrowed his brow. "Tonight's shipment?"

"Yes."

 _This is all I need._

"And why exactly did it fail?"

"Well, that's the thing, sir. It failed for a really bizarre reason."

 _Even better._

"Go on."

"So, apparently there's a new vigilante in town. He's calling himself…the Batman."

Oswald raised his eyebrows. "The _Bat_ man?"

Michael nodded.

He shook his head incredulously. "Alright…So another psycho is running around Gotham. Have the police taken him down yet?"

"Well…actually, the police kind of seem to be supporting him."

"…You're kidding."

Michael shook his head.

"They're supporting…" He felt ridiculous just saying it. "…the _Batman_?"

"It really looks that way."

Oswald scoffed and returned his attention to his alcohol. "It'll never last."

* * *

 **Beloved readers :)**

 **Firstly, if I made any mistakes, I'd like to offer my apologies to anyone out there who actually speaks French. I took a few years of it in school, but I can't claim to be fluent.**

 **For those of you who don't know any French, here is (more or less) the translation for this chapter:**

 **Avis** : My brother is an idiot.

 **Oswald** : No, little lady. That's not true, and you know it.

 **Avis** : He is wicked.

 **Oswald** : Avis, stop it. Listen to me. Your brother is your friend. Always. Your family is your life. Yes? Do you understand?

 **As always, I give my heartfelt thanks to my commenters, followers, and favoriters. I'm bringing this story to a close, with one more portion of the epilogue remaining. But if you wish there was more, worry not! With this, as with all my stories, I like to give my readers the option of suggesting things they wish had been included. Deleted scenes, if you will. So if there's something you'd have liked to have seen Oswald, or anybody, do, tell me and perhaps you'll see it after all.**

 **All my love,**

 **LightAlpha25**


	25. Chapter 25

**Saving Grace**

 **Epilogue, Part II**

 **Five Years After That**

"Dad, I'm old enough; I'm smart enough. Why can't I go to the sit-down with you? This is a big deal."

Oswald put a hand on his son's shoulder.

 _I'll never get used to him being taller than me._

"Ozzie, believe me, it's not a matter of qualification. You're more than capable. That's not what this is about…What you need to understand is how unpredictable this group is, especially all together. If anything goes sour, more than one of them wouldn't hesitate to kill you in front of me. Now I've spent more than nineteen years keeping you alive. You'll forgive me if I keep trying."

"But I'm your apprentice. I'm meant to take over the business someday. That involves risk."

He patted the boy's arm. "You're a young man. Don't rush it. After all, you taking over the business means that I'm dead."

* * *

The Penguin straightened himself, tugging at the white gloves he wore when he preferred not to show his wedding ring, and entered his private room upstairs in the Iceberg Lounge. His guests were already there.

"Good evening, gentlemen. And ladies. So sorry for the delay."

He maneuvered over to his desk. Selina Kyle, now a full-grown woman in a cat suit, lay sprawled comfortably across it.

"Hey, boss," she purred, "Long time, no see."

He sighed through his nose and waved her off. "Shoo."

She smirked and removed herself from the desk.

Oswald then stood behind it and looked over his guests. "Mr. Freeze, Ms. Ivy…" He smirked at Selina. "Catwoman."

Ed earned a smirk as well, wearing his green question mark suit and purple bowler hat. And the little green mask surely wasn't fooling anyone. "Riddler."

He observed the next guest with some distaste. "Joker."

"Hey there, Pengers," the white-faced psycho responded, "Fancy place you've got here. How flammable would you say it is?"

"Nice to see you again, too," Oswald responded sarcastically.

A glass shattered on the floor. "Oopsie."

Oswald sighed and elected to overlook it. "And you, Ms. Quinn."

"Harls, could you not?" the Joker reprimanded.

"Sorry, Puddin'. I'm such a butterfingers sometimes."

 _God, I can't stand those two._

"And Two-Face," he finished, "Welcome one and all. And I'm sure you can all imagine why I've invited you."

"Some kind of colorful, deranged orgy perhaps?" Ivy's voice was full of skepticism.

Oswald clicked his tongue. "Uh, no."

"What do we all have in common with moths?"

The entire room turned to the Riddler.

"Give up?" He was the only one enjoying his little game. "An intense dislike of bats."

"Ah! Yes. You catch on quick, my friend," said Oswald, "We have a common enemy."

"Batman," the room muttered angrily in unison.

"So we kill him. Seems pretty straightforward," said Ivy.

"He'd have even more power as a martyr," Catwoman chimed in, "First, we need to ruin his stellar reputation."

"Good, yes. Framing him is a good option," said Mr. Freeze, "But we'll never be able to work together. You surely know that, Penguin."

"You may be right, Mr. Freeze. But I'd like to think we could at least avoid hindering each other. As long as one of us gets him, does it really matter who?"

Joker's hand shot into the air. "I call dibs."

"Isn't this meeting ultimately a little unnecessary, my bird-brained acquaintance?" Freeze continued.

"Um, yeah," said Selina, "Couldn't you have sent, like, a group text?"

 _…I feel like I'm at a rehab for circus performers._

Oswald rolled his eyes. "Okay. First of all, no. Meeting in person is the classy way to go. Secondly…Mr. Freeze, after over four decades of being associated with birds, do you honestly think a bird-related insult is going to accomplish anything _at_ _all_?" He exhaled a laugh. "It's like water off a duck's back to me."

Harley laughed loudly.

Oswald looked at her for a few seconds, but opted to ignore her and turned back to Freeze. "In any case, don't tempt me into breaking out the ice puns."

He smirked at Mr. Freeze's indignant expression.

"How about we all just shut up?" Two-Face said irritably, flipping his coin, "I'm with Freeze. This is pointless."

"Now now," said Oswald, "Do you really think I would call a sit-down of these proportions and not have a good reason?"

"Well can we get to it?" Poison Ivy interjected, looking at her nails, "I've got a date."

He leaned over his desk and smiled. "Who wants to play a game?"

"Ooh! I do." Riddler grinned and crossed his arms. " _Yes_."

Harley raised her hand and bounced up and down. "Me! Me! Pick me!"

Oswald pushed a button under his desk and the bookshelf behind him opened, revealing a small secret chamber. "Who wants to play 'unmask the vigilante'?"

Gagged and restrained inside the chamber was none other than the dark knight himself. Oswald looked on proudly as his guests went from stunned silence to maniacal glee. Many of them began to step forward.

"Hold it," Catwoman demanded, "What's the catch, Oswald?"

He shrugged. "Oh, no catch. We're friends. Consider him a gift."

The group began to step forward again.

"Of course," Oswald continued, and many of them rolled their eyes, "if any of you felt like helping a friend out…actually, I'm considering running for mayor."

"Fine, whatever," said Catwoman, "Now get out of my way."

Oswald stepped back to watch, expecting the bat mask to come off any second.

 _Who are you, Batman? I feel like I should know._

It was then that the Joker leapt to the front of the group and flicked out a knife. He started to cut the restraints. "Come on, Batsy. Let's play."

" _No!_ " shouted everyone.


	26. Chapter 26

**Saving Grace**

 **Deleted Scene, between chapters 22 and 23**

 **I dedicate this to mthemagnificent, who made the request.**

"Did you have a fun day, Ozzie?" he asked, tucking his son into bed.

The boy nodded somewhat drowsily. "I like Sarah."

"We like her, too. I'm glad the playdate worked out." He ran his hand over Ozzie's black hair. "Now get some sleep. It's been a big day."

Leaning over, he gently kissed the top of his son's head. Ozzie was already asleep, worn out from an evening of friendship and fun.

 _I hope Jim and Lee won't make it too difficult for them to remain close._

On that note, Oswald's thoughts returned to his wife. His bold, feisty little wife. And sparing their sweet boy one more fond glance, he hurried quietly towards his own room.

Grace had already changed into her pajamas, and she was brushing her teeth, a look of some frustration on her lovely face. A thrill went up Oswald's spine. She was still a bit angry from dinner. Good.

"Ozzie's sound asleep," he said, tossing his vest aside and loosening his collar.

"Good." She spit and rinsed off her toothbrush. "Oh, our poor baby. Who knows when he'll get to see his little friend again?"

"They'll see each other at school. Try not to worry about it."

"Ugh." She turned to him, frowning. "And Lee was absolutely horrible."

He smiled and ran his hands down her arms. "You put her in her place."

"I honestly don't know why you think Jim is just so awesome," she continued, "He has no respect for you. He'd turn on you in a second." She snapped her fingers once for emphasis.

He took her hands and began guiding her in the direction of the bed. "I'm not surprised you feel that way."

"You _let_ him treat you that way, you know…In fact, I'm mad at you." She pushed his hands away.

Oswald paused and shrugged. "Well I suppose that's fair."

With a firm shove, he pushed her backwards onto the bed. She tried to get up instantly, but he was immediately holding her down.

"Let me go!" she said, struggling, "You don't get any action if I'm mad at you."

He pinned her arms above her head, holding both her wrists with one hand. His face was only a couple inches from hers. He cupped her chin. "I told you I would have you tonight. I told you there would be no escaping it."

She continued to struggle as he spoke, but he was ultimately stronger. Not that she was truly fighting anyway. There was a hungry look in those wild green eyes of hers.

 _I know you want it, you little minx._

His free hand crept under her shirt and made its way towards her breasts. At the last second, however, Grace twisted her body and denied him. At that, he pressed more of his weight down on her and buried his face in her neck, breathing deeply.

"Yes, that's it," he whispered hotly in her ear, "Go on and fight me." He took a breast firmly in hand, making her bite her lip. "It only makes me want you more."

She really threw herself into resisting him then and managed to roll him off. Next thing Oswald knew, his wife was straddling him and deftly unbuttoning his shirt. He grinned and allowed her to continue, pulling _her_ shirt off the second he got the chance.

Grace began to touch and tease, and he knew where this was going. She thought she was going to be on top. He smirked. Sitting up suddenly, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her fiercely, her bare chest warm against his.

Moving his kisses to her neck, he flipped her onto her back again. And before she could resist, he took hold of her pajama bottoms and swiftly yanked them off. He took a moment then just to look her over, devouring her fantastic body with his eyes. Just as he was unbuttoning his own pants, however, she was sitting up, grabbing at him, trying to drag him back down.

On an average day, he would have been putty in her hands. There were few things in life more thrilling than being dominated by Grace, than seeing her above him, riding him. But on days like today, when he got to witness her dominate other people, when her sweet and easy demeanor hardened into something cold and beautiful—like a diamond—on those days, it gave him a rush to be the one on top. To confirm that, yes, she was strong; she was a ruler, a queen, but he was still stronger, the only one in the world who could truly dominate her, who had any right to. A king.

She put up a decent struggle, but after a moment, Oswald had managed to get as naked as she was, and now things could get serious. Grace continued to try to flip him, to put him on his back again.

"Stop fighting me," she growled, "You said I could take my frustrations out on you."

He couldn't deny that. But as he pinned her down again, his eyes roaming her soft, warm body, he knew there was no stopping, no submitting. Not this time. He felt like an animal. She was fierce, but he had fought for her, had caught her.

She was his.

Using his body to separate her knees, he wedged himself between her legs. Warmth radiated there. He wanted to touch it. Letting go of one of her wrists, he reached down towards the beautiful warmth. Her now free hand flew to resist him, but he caught it, and, giving her a smirk, pressed his left forearm across her chest, keeping her shoulders restrained. He then returned to his pursuit of the warmth between her legs with his right hand. When he made contact, he closed his eyes and let out a breath. She was so wet, and he felt her shudder underneath him as his fingers explored.

After a moment of that, he pulled his hand away—much to her chagrin, he noticed—and held it up for them both to look at. His fingers glistened, and he looked at her knowingly.

"I don't think you mind this too much," he commented, earning him a sharp but rather half-hearted punch in the ribs from his wife. He smiled tauntingly and sucked his fingers in response, becoming all the more aroused at her taste.

At that, her face softened and became intrigued.

 _Ah, you think I'm about to go down on you._

His smile became only more pleased and more devious. He loved to do that to her, of course, and he would. She would not be left wanting. But later. After. He needed her now. He would give, but he had to take first tonight. He was king. She was his.

"Oswald," she breathed, her eyes widening as she felt him align himself with her.

He barely even gave her time to brace herself before he was inside her. Grace inhaled sharply at the sudden entrance, but they sighed at the sweet feeling almost simultaneously. How they burned when they were together like this. How passion consumed them, body and soul. It was like finding God, in a way. Heaven and Hell both felt so real to Oswald when he was in bed with Grace. Touching her, looking at her, being inside her; there was a Heaven. Thinking, worrying, knowing in the back of his mind that they were mortal, that all of it could end; there was a Hell.

His lips crashed into hers as he thrust, his rhythm forceful and possessive. But she matched him in every way, accepting his hard pace eagerly, moaning and whimpering encouragingly as she kissed him back, her hands fisting in his hair.

Her lips. Her hot, breathy moans. Her fingers tugging at his scalp. The knowledge that she was messing up his hair on purpose. Everything about her was perfect. And God, how she squeezed him.

She had once worried that having a child would somehow take away his satisfaction in their lovemaking. He could have laughed, it seemed so ridiculous now. He moved to kiss her neck, and just as he did, she sank her teeth into his shoulder, elevating her hips a bit at the same time. The change in angle allowed him to drive into her even deeper, the pleasure heightening with the pain of her bite. He gave a short cry. Whatever small amount of tightness she might have lost since the birth of their son, she _more_ than made up for it in experience.

She didn't let go of him either, and the pain remained as he continued to take her, making her grunt into his shoulder. She wasn't drawing blood, but it was clear she intended to leave marks.

 _God, so perfect._

It felt so primal, so raw, all of it. They were two…things. Two creatures clawing and clinging to each other out of a need that couldn't be put into words. He held her as close to himself as he could now, using her body as leverage to thrust as fast as he could manage. Her teeth released the flesh near his neck, and he saw her eyes roll back in her head just before he lost it, making a point to drive as deeply as possible as he spent himself.

Oswald could barely breathe afterwards. His body felt heavy, and he gasped in a breath as he felt himself throb, still inside her, so sensitive. He could barely see straight, but Grace must have seen his vulnerability plainly enough. Still panting, but baring her own devious smile, she rolled her hips once, sending shockwaves of sensitivity shuddering through him. With a moan, he withdrew from her then, feeling now more than ever how slippery their contact was.

He pressed his forehead to hers. "God…give me a minute," he said, catching his breath, "This isn't over. I'll take care of you."

She smiled sweetly then and kissed him affectionately. Gone for now was the bedroom power struggle that they had just delighted in. They were friends and equals again.

"You're such a good lover," she murmured, meeting his exhausted gaze.

He exhaled a happy laugh, his chest filling with pride. Such comments gratified him in a way that nothing else ever had, even after all these years. It felt much like when he had become the king of Gotham. Elation, almost disbelief. But something about this was even sweeter. This proved that he truly was a great man, in every sense. All the power in the world wouldn't have made up for his displeasure if he couldn't keep his woman satisfied.

"Because of you, dearest," he replied, kissing her nose, "Because you've allowed me to practice on you so often."

Grace laughed. "Okay, yeah. That sounds about right." Her expression softened again, and she held his face in her hands, looking into his sharp eyes, which had softened slightly with tiredness and affection. "I love you so much, Oswald."

 _I'll never get tired of hearing that. I love you more than life. You're my weakness, Grace. You and our beautiful son. How can I tell you that?_

But his brain was too addled with pleasure to put his thoughts or feelings to words. Instead, a glint of mischief returned to his eyes, sharpening his icy blue gaze.

"I'm about to make you love me even more," he said.

He then turned his attention to her pleasure, positioning himself so that his face could go between her legs. Grace threw her head back into the pillow as he began teasing her, tasting her, tempting her towards glorious climax. She was still so aroused.

"Oswald," she breathed, "…Oh my God."

* * *

 **Author's Note: I don't know if you can tell from the timing in the story, but Avis, their daughter, is conceived in this scene.**

 **I hope you, my charming readers, enjoyed this. I don't usually do such explicit scenes, but I had a good time with it, and I'm likely to do more in the future. As for this particular fanfiction, I will certainly do more deleted scenes, and I'd be delighted to get suggestions from any of you (though do be patient with me; I'm about to get married, so my next update may be a little while).**

 **Until then…**

 **All my love,**

 **LightAlpha25**


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